Only A Dream by steve
by gumtuu
Summary: Why is Trevor in Claire's dreams? My 1st Cupid fanfic. http://tillthen.tripod.com
1. Default Chapter

ONLY A DREAM...A story about the tv show, Cupid  
by Steve 0yervidez  
gumtuu@hotmail.com  
  
  


Twilight had fallen over the Chicago skyline. The noisy streets buzzed with traffic as several sets of twin headlights sped beneath a row of streetlights valiantly trying to push back the shadows from the sidewalk below. The cars whooshed past, oblivious to the two figures, a man and a woman, huddled close together as they talked alone, their distant voices swallowed by the street noise. Both of their nervous forms emanated an awkward anticipation as they shuffled for warmth in the crisp air. Still, they continued to talk, ignored by everything and everyone around them. Well, almost everyone.  
A keenly interested Trevor Hale watched the couple from his shadowed vantage point in front of the building's double doors. Blowing into his fist, he watched their every move and gesture, trying to gleam as much information as he could from each inflection. Coiled with anticipation, albeit vicarious, he waited to see what would happen next.   
"Come on, Michael. The set up was perfect. Don't screw this up," Trevor whispered to himself.  
Out under the streetlights, the man and woman appeared to laugh together, and the man nodded in agreement as a smile lit his face. She smiled back and began to walk away, coyly looking back as she invited the man to follow. The man seemed surprised for a second, then he shrugged his shoulders and happily obliged. The two began walking up the sidewalk towards Trevor. As they passed, Trevor made a show of looking away while he swept the door frame with his fingertips like a feather duster, as if standing there was perfectly innocent. Out of the corner of his eye Trevor caught the other man's gaze, and the man gave Trevor a thumbs up as he passed without a word. Trevor suppressed most of his smile until they were further down the street, at which point he pumped his elbow into his side as he made a fist in victory.   
"Yes! Pure brilliance, unequivocal artistry, the man with the plan, the cherub with the-" Trevor had just begun a celebratory strut but stopped mid-step, as he realized that there was no one there with him. He was alone. What was the point of being right, he wondered, when there was no one else around to be wrong? Well, he could fix that. With one jubilant grunt and thrust purely for himself, he swung open the doors and stepped inside.  
  
  
Several floors up, Dr. Claire allen sat before an assorted group of men and women with the skyline of Chicago shining through the window at her back. She pushed an errant strand of dark hair from her bewildered face as she considered what to tell one of the group members who waited for her reply.  
"I would have to say that it was inappropriate for the circumstances, Dennis. What you did was a tiny bit presumptuous," she said as she tried her best to phrase her reaction delicately, her lips pursed in disbelief. She took a calming breath. "So it's understandable that she would be so underwhelmed by your... gesture. Next time, however, it might be wiser to look for a more overt sign, a more _obvious_ sign, before disrobing so completely. Real life doesn't happen like a porno film."  
Dennis nodded to himself and tried to ignore the snickers of laughter behind him. "She said she'd call me, Dr. Allen. Do you think that she'll call?" He asked eagerly.   
"No."  
"But I'm sure I could make a better impression with time to prepare. I mean sometimes it takes a few minutes for it to-"  
"That ship has sailed, Dennis. And sank. For good. Perhaps you should start looking elsewhere. And by the way, you've been coming to my singles group longer than... well, everyone. We aren't so formal here that you have to call me Dr. Allen all the time."  
Dennis smiled. "Sure thing, sweetcakes."  
"Little more formal, Dennis."  
Dennis' eyes went wide with embarrassment. "Sorry, Dr. Allen."  
A woman at the back leaned over to the woman next to her, and whispered into her ear. "_Little_ being the key word," she giggled.  
Claire glanced towards the back of the room, expecting the usual snide, disruptive remark from Trevor, but she was surprised to see none forthcoming. She looked around the room. Where was he anyway? Looking down at her watch, she noticed the time. Typical. She was always waiting on Trevor. He was never on time. Even when all the guests had been invited and decked in their finest clothing, waiting for them to enter together and elegantly descend the staircase for the-   
Claire stopped herself. Where had that come from? She grabbed for the image she had unconsciously flashed through her mind, but felt it slip away into nothing. Weird.  
Claire rose from her chair. "Okay, I think that will definitely be it for tonight. I'll see you all on Thursday."  
The room filled with quiet whispers and laughter as chairs were pushed back and everyone slowly moved towards the back of the room. Claire bent down to gather her things and didn't notice as Trevor darted in at the back of the crowd and began to push his way past them. He zigzagged his way up to her quietly without her seeing him until he stood right next to her as she straightened up, surprising her. He smiled like the cat who had eaten the whole aviary.   
"Oh, no. Not tonight, Trevor. It's been a rough session and I don't need any more from you too."  
"Me two? There's another me? Well I suppose there would have to be since one of me isn't enough to contain my enormous-" He made a space with his hands.  
"Does everything have to do with size with you men?" she asked.  
Trevor hardly paused. "_-skill_ in the ways of love, matchmaking and otherwise. Still, I do know how you shrinks think."  
"Gee, I wonder why," she quipped.  
"Wanting to create another me, another lab rat to try your psycho-analytic voodoo that you do so well. Lucky me. I guess I'm like the potato chip. You can't treat just one. Interesting brand name for a chip, by the way. Lays. Lots of swell connotations. Notice my oh so subtle emphasis on the word _swell._"  
Claire was annoyed. "Trevor, did you ever meet an innuendo that you didn't like?"  
"Only those not about sex."  
"I thought you were the god of love, Trevor."  
"Who doesn't love sex?"  
"Trevor, I'm sorry that your... _persona_, missed the group tonight. Without your sparkling insight we may have actually been able to make some progress."  
"Well, my charming persona persists in absentia."  
"Yeah, too bad it didn't keep the rest of you with it." She looked at the smile still plastered across his face and sighed. "I know I'll regret asking this but, what is it that-?"  
"Has me so excited? Well, beyond the obvious incentive you provide-"  
"I was right, I do regret it," she said.  
"To paraphrase," he continued, "I've just been chased by a large and cuddly spokesbear carrying a fire dousing bucket he wanted to soak me with because I'm... _smoking_." Trevor touched his sleeve as if it were hot.  
"Smoking, huh? With luck that will violate some building code and I can have you arrested, Trevor."  
"Oooh, handcuffs, bondage. Can I be the warden this time?"  
"I see your taste in films hasn't improved."  
"Love's always in good taste, even when its not."  
"So, Trevor. Is this conversation ever going to accidentally crash into whatever has caused your current, bubbly disposition or should I just make my escape pre-emptively." She took a step as if to leave before he stopped her.  
"I am NOT bubbly... Okay, maybe a little. I'm also light on the tongue with a charming aftertaste." He leaned his lips toward hers. "Care for a sip?"  
"Trevor..." Claire said, still annoyed.  
"O.K. Fine. The paragon of love has struck again. You really should hang around me more, some of my talents could accidentally rub off on you. That's something I've been thinking we need to talk about, by the way. You. Me. Rubbing."  
"You've finally mastered the single entendre, Trevor... and I'm in no mood."  
"Yes you are. And its a bad one. I, however, am one bead closer to Olympus."  
She looked forlornly towards the door she somehow wasn't able to get to. "And one marble further from reality."  
As always, he ignored her. ""I matched two up today. Two free tickets on Cupid's magic carpet ride."  
"All right, I'll play along. Which two misguided, doomed to fail, and easily impressed souls have you snared into your grand web of delusion this time, Trevor? Anyone I know?"  
"Absolutely. Two yearning hearts from this very assemblage. And, thanks to me, the doomed and misguided parts are now past tense."  
Speechless, she hung her mouth slightly open, placing her hand on her hip in annoyance. Trevor watched her with a smile on his face. "You know I love it when you look like that, your whole pouty/sexy routine." he said.  
"Two people... from _my_ group."  
He nodded. "Formerly from. Well, after tonight, anyway." Trevor motioned to all the empty seats around them. "Have you ever noticed how your singles group never gets any smaller?" Trevor held up two fingers. "Its two smaller today."  
"And me hoping you'd be the hat trick. Hmm, too small. Interesting. Addressing certain inadequacies are we, Trevor?" she mimicked the form he had made with his hands earlier, but much closer together.  
"Not too small, _two_ small. And don't even think that, because I'd be perfectly happy to dispel any misconceptions that you may have about-" Trevor reached for the buttons of his belt.  
"Trevor!" Claire darted out her hand to stop him. "Just tell me who."  
"Michael and Lucy."  
"The shut in and the claustrophobe?" she asked incredulously.  
"Absolutely. And you only wish you had thought of it first."  
"It'll never work." Claire sighed.  
"Oh, come on. Yin and Yang. Tit for Tat. It's classic."  
"Cliché, Trevor. I believe it's pronounced 'cliché'. Opposites attract is a common myth that certain intelligent people in this room, namely me, know better then to believe in."  
"Maybe that's because certain intelligent people, namely you, haven't been getting enough Tat for their-"  
Claire raised her finger quickly. "Don't say it."  
Trevor smiled. "Well, it's true isn't it? What with your slab of picture perfect hunk meat, Alex, still in New York."  
"Sometimes I wish you had more of Alex's qualities, Trevor. Mainly the far, far away part."  
"Ha, that's funny. I never saw you as the roleplaying type. But if it will tide you over while Alex's gone, just consider me your 'In Case of Emergency, Brake Bedpost' switch. I'd be happy to provide the services of someone, oh, I don't know, god-like."  
"Adonis, perhaps?"  
"Sorry, not a god. Besides, mom's called dibs on him." Trevor chuckled derisively. "Adonis... He wasn't the superhunk everyone thought he was. Really let himself go. Put on a spare tire or three."  
Claire looked at him curiously as a serious look crossed her face. Her past suspicions about a possible weight problem for Trevor bounced to the forefront of her thoughts. "Haven't we all at one point or another."  
"And he was never that good looking to begin with, he just had a kick-ass PR department. Those satyrs really worked their hooves off trying to de-emphasize those love handles of his." Trevor made hoof-clopping sounds with his tongue as he imitated a high pitched, effeminate satyr. "No, no! More toga, not less, More Toga! Have I taught you nothing? Conceal! Conceal!"  
"Trevor, what I'm trying to get in edgewise, is that in the end, me, Alex, and my group do just fine without you. As we've proven today."  
"_Just fine_ doesn't quite dunk your doughnuts, okay. What I'm asking is where's the passion between you and Alex? Where's the heat? The parental TV Warning about mature content?"  
"Where's the mute button?" Claire asked in an exasperated voice.  
Trevor barely paused. "Although, I must admit," Trevor said, giving her a quick once-over, "you do have the visual element nailed down..."  
"Trevor, passion and heat aren't necessarily conducive to a _lasting_ relationship."  
Trevor laughed in disbelief. "You know you'd make a great Vulcan," he said. " 'Necessarily conducive'. Poetic. Who wrote that, Byron or HAL-2000?"  
Claire tried to move past Trevor so she could leave but he shifted to block her.  
"What's your point, Trevor?"  
"MY point used to be your point. Passion. Heat."Trevor made an inspection of her neck. "Hickey's."  
Claire brought one hand reflexively to her neck before she stopped herself. "There is not!" she said.  
"Exactly!" Trevor replied triumphantly. "For some one with a boyfriend, you sure don't have any neck art to show for it. I've met nuns and eunuchs less celibate than you."  
Claire tried to get past him again but gave up. Instead she put her hand on his chest and began to push, backing him towards the door. Trevor tried to ignore the thrill her touch sent up his spine.  
"This isn't high school, Trevor. I try to provide a rational-"  
"Boring. Its pronounced 'boring'..." Trevor said as he walked backwards.  
"_Rational_ and realistic approach to finding love or being able to cope without it for awhile," she continued.  
"What, with one of your over winded and under lived treatises on relationships?"  
Claire stopped and thought. "Help me out here, Trevor. Which one of us were you describing again?"  
A voice spoke from the back of the room.  
"Claire?"  
Claire looked up and a smile lit her face.  
"Alex!"  
She quickly ran over into his arms where he stood near the entrance to the room. Trevor looked away, annoyed at being left alone.  
Alex looked into Claire's eyes. "I'm glad I caught you," he said. "I had some business in Chicago and I thought I'd surprise you. When you weren't at home I figured you'd be here."  
"Alex, I've missed you so much. I can't believe you're here."  
He looked over at Trevor scowling at the back of the room. "Are you in the middle of something?"  
Claire looked between Alex and Trevor, sensing a little tension. But her smile returned in full. "No, nothing really. We were just talking."  
"Because if I'm interrupting your work..."  
Trevor shook his head in disbelief and called out across the room. "Why do you always assume that it has to be for work? We were just talking. It may be something you have never personally had happen to you, but some people actually _like_ talking to _me_ ."  
Claire reached up and kissed Alex. Trevor bowed his head and looked away.  
"Let me get my things," she breathed at him. "Then we can go back to my place."  
Claire bounced over to where she had dropped her purse and papers on a chair by Trevor. She smiled up at him with a mischievous look as she picked them up.  
"I guess I won't be needing any of your emergency switches today, Trevor. But I'll keep the rest of what you said in mind."  
For once, he had nothing to say.  
She moved over to Alex and looked back. "So, I'll see you Thursday, okay Trevor?"   
"I'll try to get her back in one piece," Alex added, smiling for Trevor's benefit.  
Claire lowered her voice as she spoke to Alex. "Oh really? Well, I can't guarantee the same for you."  
They both chuckled as they kissed and left the room. Trevor stood there alone, listening to them going down the hall.  
"Bubbly... yeah, right." He said into the silence, and despondently looked out the window at the Chicago skyline.  
  
  


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"Trevor..." A concerned voice whispered into the darkness.  
"Trevor, come back!"  
"Claire..." a man whispered back, half asleep.  
"Trevor, don't you dare walk away from me..."  
"Claire!"  
Alex shook her shoulder lightly as she lay asleep next to him. Claire woke suddenly, staring at the darkened ceiling of her bedroom. For some reason, she half expected to see ballroom chandeliers hanging there, ablaze with candles. But she couldn't quite remember why. She was certain she heard the echoes of a string quartet's elegant music in the air for a second, but then it seemed to fade to the corners of her mind. Now as she listened, all she heard was her quiet bedroom. Lifting her head, she looked around, barely awake and confused.  
"Tre... Alex? What is it? What's wrong?"  
As she looked at him, she felt a chill emanating from his side of the bed. Without a word he removed his hand from her shoulder and laid back down, staring at the ceiling.  
"You know... I've tried to be understanding," Alex began, his voice quiet but annoyed.  
"Alex, what are you talking about?" Claire asked, still confused.  
He continued on, not looking at her. "I know how involved you can become in your work. I saw that the first night I met you. I mean, so can I. Of course I've never fixated on writing my next article in my sleep..."  
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Claire tried to interrupt him, but he talked over her as if trying to reason with himself.  
"He's a complex case... you're in the middle of writing a book about him... I understand that. And I know that you hate the fact that so far you haven't been able to do anything to help him..."  
"Alex..."  
"It takes a lot of thought and consideration, a lot of research, to do what you do. But still, I just don't see why he's always in your-"  
"Alex!" She had definitely had enough and she hit him on the shoulder to get his attention.  
"Alex, talk to _me_, not my ceiling."  
"You were dreaming about him again."  
"Dreaming? About who?"  
"Who else," he said angrily, swinging his legs out from under the sheets as he stood up. Claire let out a frustrated breath and dropped her head back onto the pillow beneath it. She tried to stay calm as she spoke in her most rational voice.  
"How many times are we going to have to go through this, Alex?"  
He stopped her angrily. "No, wait a second. Hold on. Isn't that supposed to be my line? Isn't that what I should be asking you?" His eyes were hard and worried at the same time as he looked at her from where he stood near the foot of the bed. A wave of feelings rushed through him, sending his heart pounding to the pit of his stomach as he thought about what she meant to him. He tried to ignore how beautiful she looked as she lay there bathed in the soft moonlight streaming in through her bedroom window. Just as he tried to ignore what he really feared was going on. The room was silent for several seconds as neither of them spoke. Growing slightly calmer, he sat down quietly on the edge of the bed, doing his best not to look at her.  
The sheets rustled as Claire reached out to turn on the small lamp on the nightstand beside her bed. As its warm light suddenly filled the room, she propped herself into a seated position. Watching him, she said nothing, trying to sort out what she felt. She understood his reaction and the insecurities it might cause. But after all that they had been through, that he would still have those insecurities made her feel like she was pounding her head against a wall. Why were all the men in her life so stubborn? Both him and Trevor. She almost laughed bitterly to herself. Here she was, a couples therapist. Why wasn't her own relationship easier? Nothing is ever easy, she reminded herself, and she finally spoke.  
"Alex, it was only a dream. Its not a sign of-"  
"What was it this time?" he interrupted, his voice somewhat calmer than before. "Another romantic trek across the desert? World War I again?"  
Claire started to speak but stopped. She felt suddenly uncomfortable about the subject.  
"Well," she said softly, "It's starting to fade, but... there was something about a ballroom, a grand staircase or something... I don't know."  
"I'm not really sure how I should feel about this," he said.  
"It meant nothing, Alex. You can't go all defensive on me just because I had a dream. Not everything flittering through my head is a reflection on you, you know. Or on our relationship. Just because I'm working through some problems outside of _us_ doesn't mean that I love you any less. It doesn't. I mean," her voice took on a more exasperated tone, "my god, Alex, it was only a dream."  
He finally looked at her. "You dream about him almost every night. I hear you talking... no, arguing with him in your sleep."  
She gave him an annoyed look. "And what have you heard that's been so incriminating?"  
"That's not the point."  
"Then what is?" Claire tried to find some explanation that would ease his worries. "Alex, he's my patient, that's all. He's not some fantasy man floating around in my dreams. Just because I'm concerned about him doesn't mean that there's anything going on between us. Give me a little more credit. I guess its just... well, I don't really know why I dream about him so much. Maybe my sub-conscious mind is trying to construct disparate scenarios to try to gain some insight past his dementia..."  
Alex let out a bitter laugh, as if that was exactly the sort of thing he had expected to hear from her. "Sounds like a rationalization to me, Claire."  
"Rationalization? Of what?" Claire felt her voice slowly growing louder, but she didn't care. He was being a stubborn oaf. She didn't like what he seemed to be implying. "Don't you think that I'm trying, honestly trying, to help Trevor? That I want him cured of this delusion of his that he's the god of love? He's hurting, Alex. Trevor's hurting and in pain in some place I can't reach. He needs to move past that to realize that he's just an ordinary, _mortal_ man. I'm doing my best to convince him that."  
_Just him?_ Alex wondered to himself.  
"Maybe he doesn't want to be convinced," he said.  
"Yeah, I think I noticed," she shot back.  
"No, Claire, you don't get it. What I'm saying is, maybe he doesn't need to be cured."  
Claire gave him a confused look. "What? Don't tell me that you... you don't honestly believe he's Cupid, do you?"  
"No, I don't."  
"Then what are you saying, Alex?"  
"That he doesn't either."  
That took Claire by surprise. She couldn't think of anything to say for a few seconds, stunned at his statement. Finally, she shook her head.  
"No, that's ridiculous."  
"It makes perfect sense." Alex moved over to her and knelt by the side of the bed as he took her hands between his. He had to make her see what was happening. "Claire, maybe you haven't been able to help him because there's nothing left that needs help."  
"But why would Trevor do that?"  
Alex was surprised that she didn't see it. He answered as if it were obvious.  
"Because he's in love with you."  
"Trevor? No..." she said in disbelief.  
"Trevor knows that once he's no longer Cupid, no longer some puzzle for you to solve, then you're out of his life. When that happens, he'll never see you again and he can't accept that. He doesn't want to lose you."  
"Alex, Trevor's delusion is very real. He sincerely believes he's Cupid. You've seen him. With his..." she shook her shoulders in imitation of Trevor. "How can you think he's faking that?"  
"Yeah, I've seen him. And he's not trying to get home to Olympus. He's trying to get home to you," he said, unwavering.  
Claire still couldn't accept what he was saying. "I think you're seeing things that aren't there. He's never shown any-"  
Alex shook his head. "If you believe that, then maybe he's not the one with the delusion." He stood up again, moving away from her. "Don't kid yourself, Claire. His stated goal in life is to match these hundred couples of his so he can serve his penance and go home. And for the most part he's tried to do just that with every couple he's put together. He's tried to find their _true love_. All except one. Us. If anything, he's done his best to try and come between us. He even told you before he introduced us that whoever he found for you would be someone you would hate. I mean, how much clearer does ithave to be?"  
"That was just him trying to make a point. He's been nothing but encouraging since."  
"If he has, it's only been a smokescreen for what he's really after. The only point he's trying to make is that the person for you is him. And that's why he's still pretending that he believes he's Cupid. To string you along."  
"I... don't believe that Trevor would do that," she said, but her voice held less conviction than her words.  
Alex began pulling on his clothes as he gathered them from around the room. "Well, it's something you should consider." He looked around angrily for his shirt and found it drapped over a chair. "And maybe, just maybe you'll realize that's what all your dreams are really about. You keep telling me that in all of them he ends up leaving you. Maybe you're trying to tell yourself something. Something that you're not willing to admit yet. Something that neither of you is, about what's really going on."  
Alex didn't say what else he feared that she wasn't admitting to herself. That deep down, maybe she didn't want Trevor cured either. He finally finished getting dressed, draping his overcoat over one arm. As discreetly as possible, he felt for the small box tucked into his coat pocket. It was still there, but this was, without a doubt, not the right time for it. That would have to wait.  
"Who knows," he said, "maybe he really believes he's what he says he is. All I know is, if he's hanging on to the delusion of being Cupid so he can stay close to you, then your doing him more harm than good, Claire."  
With that he turned and left her bedroom. Claire sat there alone, not knowing what to think. After a few moments, she reached over to turn off her nightstand lamp and the room plunged into darkness. Quietly, she placed her head on her pillow, wrapping her arms around it as her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight. As she soaked it in, she closed her eyes and listened, almost imagining she still heard a distant string quartet playing.  
  
  
  
Trevor jerked his head up from his bed as he woke unexpectedly, covered in the soft full light of the same moon. He looked around as if searching for someone, but he found no one there. His eyes felt heavy as looked over at the clock face glowing beside his bed. Groaning at the late hour it showed, he awkwardly rose from where he lay, his sheets jumbled from a fitful sleep. Still drowsy, he padded towards his bedroom door, pulling the sheets off the bed to fall onto the floor. He didn't notice. He wouldn't have noticed if they had been on fire. On the backs of elephants. Doing the mambo. His mind was too muddled with sleep for such trivial matters. Pushing through the double doors out of his bedroom, he slowly walked towards the kitchen.  
Champ's voice, clear and articulate as if he were performing, cut off in mid-sentence when Trevor appeared. In his hands he held the script he had been reciting from, but his attention shifted fully to Trevor as he shambled towards him. Trevor gave him a look as if he was trying to figure out what Champ was. Still uncertain, he rubbed his eyes and seemed to finally accept that Champ was real. And awake.  
"Hey, Champoo! The face-man waketh," Trevor said in a tired, scratchy voice as he moved closer, passing him on the way to the refrigerator. "Why are you still awake at this un-godly hour."  
In sharp contrast to Trevor, Champ was a barely contained ball of energy, seemingly bouncing on his feet as he stood there. "I've got a big audition tomorrow... I mean this morning," he said as he checked his watch. "I am SO psyched for it that I couldn't sleep. I feel it. I'm going to nail this one. I think I have a great shot this time. Slam and Dunk!"  
"What's the part, Caffeine on a Hot Tin Roof? Because you'd qualify. I really wish more people had as much night energy as you. It would make my job a whole lot easier. You go knock them dead. We've all got to dream." Trevor opened the refrigerator door and removed a carton of milk. "Unfortunately," he muttered softly to himself.  
Champ heard him anyway. "Even gods among men? Do you dream, Trevor?"  
"Look, I'm still trying to get used to sleeping eight hours of the day, much less dreaming. Someone should really complain about these design flaws you humans are saddled with. Shortcomings aren't something we gods are used to. Now that I've been like you for awhile, let me let you in on a little secret. These mortal bodies of yours suck. Everyday with absolutely no consideration for your schedule, your mood, your bodies lapse into this magical land of catatonia that you can't avoid. I feel like I've been mugged by my own body. Bad engineering, if you ask me. Although some of the female floor models do have some interesting bodywork." Trevor shook the milk carton he held and realized it was empty. Without a first thought he placed it back in the refrigerator. "And yet I always hear someone complaining about how they don't get enough Coma-time. I don't see the attraction."  
Not even bothering to scold Trevor any more, Champ reached in and removed the empty milk carton. Calmly, he exaggerated dropping it into the trash can. "Well, in defense of mere mortals Trevor, some of our ill-conceived bodies actually get _tired_."  
Trevor smiled. "Except for nervous actors before a big audition, I guess. Regardless, sleep is a total waste of useful bed space."  
Still trying to use some excess energy, Champ slapped the script into his other hand loudly. He did it several times to some unheard rhythm until he realized that Trevor flinched with each sound.  
Trevor put a hand to his ear. "At least sleeping is quiet."  
"Sorry," Champ apologized. "You still haven't answered my question. Do you dream?"  
Trevor moaned. "Don't get me started on dreaming. Although I've used it to my advantage in the past, now I don't see how you mortals handle it. Do you have any idea how long it took for me to realize that none of it was real? I'd always assumed it would be obvious. Even now, how do I know that you're really here and not just another dream?"  
Champ smiled suddenly. He reached out and pinched Trevor hard on the arm.  
"Ow! What was that for?"  
"Just a little test. Its supposed to show that you're not dreaming."  
"Only in pain instead. Much better. Unless I'm dreaming of you pinching me."  
"Trevor, if you're dreaming about me trying to convince you that you're actually awake, then you really need some better dreams. Considering how you're the god of love and all."  
Trevor tried to ignore the sarcasm in Champ's voice. "Tell me about it. A minute ago before I lapsed back to lucidity, I wasin a ballroom with a feisty brunette wearing too much dress and too little inhibition. Then, the next thing I know I'm back here looking into your annoyingly-lively-for-the-middle-of-the-night, thespian face. I mean, that's nothing but a tease..."  
"Well, I'll try to keep my liveliness to a soft roar, Trevor. So you can get back to your dream."  
Trevor nodded. "Thank you. It's nice of you to consider the adrenaline-challenged." He started walking back towards his room. "Victorian dresses. I'm surprised humans didn't just go extinct back then considering all the unwrapping involved for procreation. Just once I'd like to dream about the sixties. Free love. One of my favorite word combinations."  
Trevor stopped and considered. "She was a looker though, dress or no dress. Dark hair, fiery brown eyes, great figure. Not that she would ever stop arguing with me long enough to dare the thought of showing it."  
A look of understanding crossed Champ's face. "Dreaming of the illustrious Dr. Claire Allen again, are we Trevor?"  
Trevor paused. "Why would you think that?" he asked confused.  
Champ smiled to himself. "No reason."  
Trevor nodded as he headed back to bed, but then he stopped again. "Were you playing some music out here before I came out? Classical or something like that?"  
Already engrossed in his script again, Champ answered only off-handedly. "I don't think I even own any classical music, Trevor."  
"Oh. Okay." Trevor wondered what it was he remembered hearing. Finally he put it out of his mind. "Well I'm off for another dose of sexless death that you humans call sleep. Sexless and death. Two redundant words if I ever heard them. Good luck in the morning."  
"Thanks."  
Trevor climbed back into bed and lay quietly in the moonlight as he tried to get back to sleep. Suddenly he felt very alone and he wondered where Claire was. What shewas doing at that moment. He decided it was better not to think about it. With Alex in town he had a pretty good idea of the answer. Still he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was late for something, that everyone was waiting on him. Trevor closed his eyes and imagined he heard long, full dresses scraping across a ballroom floor as they danced in time with distant music.  
  
  


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The last remnants of Taggerty's lunch crowd were scattered across the tables around Trevor as he used a white towel to wipe down the bar. Early afternoon sunlight flowed in through the front windows, filling the air with a diffuse light. An electrician worked at the top of a ladder several feet away, as he tried to fix the dead lights above the bar. Scattered conversations mixed with the clinking of glasses and dishes being gathered. The soft noise fought against the the music playing from the jukebox. Trevor had just put a quarter in. Now he only half-listened to the song that he had chosen, his mind already filled with the thoughts the lyrics conjured up.  
  
_ I can dream about you, if I can't hold you tonight..._  
  
The front door pushed open and Trevor looked up to see Claire Allen walk in. His face lit up as he smiled at her. She gave him a small smile of her own as she moved towards him. She was amazed at how upbeat he almost always was. Too bad it was most likely from his delusion, she thought. Claire eased herself onto the barstool across from Trevor.  
"Sparky! Greater Chicago's most renowned brunette eclaire! Master mender of mental mayhem and diploma'd dissuader of distressing dementia-"  
"Hello, Trevor. Aiming at all-out alliteration are we?"  
"Absolutely."  
"Well, stop it. It's annoying."  
"Annoying? Aren't all aberrant affinities?"  
"Trevor..."  
"Yeah, maybe your right. So how's my favorite brain connoisseur today. Scrambled anyone's eggs yet?"  
"I'm fine, thank you."  
"My thoughts exactly. Including the 'thank you' part. Why is it the second that I start having improper thoughts about you, you always show up. I mean, how does that happen?"  
"I don't know, Trevor. Knowing you I'd have to guess... the law of averages?"  
"Stacking that particular deck is definitely fun. It sure beats the hell out of picturing your likely activities."  
"You know what, Trevor? I'm really starting to think that you need a new hobby."  
"What nude hobby did you have in mind?"  
"Nude, Trevor, not new. Wait... switch that. Nude, not nude. No, _new_ not... you know what I mean. I actually came for a reason that doesn't involve baring more than you're tortured thinking. I needed to talk to you."  
"Far south, what bring your luminous countenance to my darkened hovel?"  
"Forsooth," she corrected him again. "And wow. That's a little more flowery than your usual, isn't it? Word wise, I mean. Nowhere in sight of an innuendo."  
"It was the way I pictured it. Let's see how you talk after being subjected to Champ's ceaseless rehearsals back home. I think the play's called 'the never-ending boring'. He's been spouting that sort of verbiage all week long, practicing for his new part. Its driving me crazy!"  
"Isn't that redundant?" she asked.  
"Don't freak out or anything, but check your six," Trevor whispered as if trying not to draw attention.  
Claire turned cautiously around to look behind her, but she saw no one there. "Why?" she asked, confused.  
Trevor looked at her back. "Because I just have and the view's fantastic."  
Claire smiled and nodded to herself as she turned back around. "Ah. There's the Trevor we all know and love. I suppose I should thank you for watching my back. Figuratively, of course."  
"Hey, no problem. Your back, Your front. Your sides. Figurative describes it pretty well. No sweat off my back yet. So how are thing going between you and... what did you say his name was? Adonis?"  
"Alex..."  
"Oh, Alex. Right."  
Claire tilted her head in thought. Suddenly her voice took on an even tone "I'm totally enjoying our week together. Things couldn't be better."  
Trevor noticed her reaction. "Hmm. Couldn't be better as in the best, or as in the best it's going to get?"  
"As in 'none of your business' ."  
"Ah. See, you must be new here. Love is always my business. And since I'm the one who hooked you two up, I have a vital interest. Besides, why else would you come to see the God of Love?"  
"The reason I came to see _Trevor Hale_, is to ask you why you didn't come to our session today."  
"My fault, actually. I didn't have time to ask Hephaestus to forge me some stronger sunglasses."  
"Sunglasses? For what?"  
"To ward off the glare from your 'getting some' glow. That or it must have slipped my mind."  
"I see you're still getting that omniscience on the installment plan," she teased.  
"Same way you're perpetuating that glow, I'm sure."  
"Absolutely. In fact, you seem to have been avoiding me a lot since Alex has been in town."  
Trevor waved his outstretched fingers in the air. "We psychotics are a flighty lot, aren't we. I figured I shouldn't get in the way of your strip-search marathon. Sure puts Where's Waldo to shame."  
"I'm being serious, Trevor. We need to keep up on our sessions or the hospital's going to introduce you to the joy of padded rooms. Besides, you never know. If you would see me more and let me help you, you could finally find someone to glow with all on your own. 'Lighten' your own load, as it were. Finally be rid of me." she watched him carefully as she said it.  
"Believe me, I don't need help in that arena. Arena being literal, by the way. I've gotten tons of offers. Gaggles, hordes, more than you could ever-"  
Claire interrupted him. "Then why don't you, Trevor? Come on. Carpe femina, and all that"  
Trevor looked around in confusion. "Wait a second, what's happening here? Have we just switched bodies or something, because you're starting to sound a lot like me. And I'm starting to feel the need to be under aroused and over analytical. Deja Freaky Friday Flashback. Forgive... the alliteration."  
Claire pressed on. "Well, since we both agree that I'm spouting your usual lines, answer my question, Trevor. Like the slogan says, why not 'just do it'?"  
Trevor placed his elbow on the bar and his chin in his palm as he slowly leaned towards her across the bar. He spoke in an exaggerated, seductive voice. "Well, I'm still hoping I'll get a shot at being _your_ next exclusive light generator. Or should I say _lightning_?"  
Claire smiled. "Dream on, Trevor."  
"What's that supposed to mean?" He pulled back defensively.  
She looked at him, confused at his reaction. "What do... you think it should mean?"  
He tossed his towel down onto the bar. "He told you, didn't he? Champ told you. That's it. From now on I sleep with the radio on."  
Claire didn't understand"You would think I'd learn not to ask this by now but, what are you talking about, Trevor?"  
Trevor lifted his hands momentarily as if surrendering. "Look, I can't be held accountable for who I dream about. I'm still fairly new to this being a mortal thing. Just because I've had one or two dreams about you-"  
Claire smiled slightly, interrupting him.  
"You've been dreaming about me?" She asked, surprised.  
"Yeah. A little. Not that much." Trevor tried to make little of it, but he still seemed embarrassed.  
For some reason, Claire enjoyed his discomfort. "How often do you dream about me, Trevor?"  
"Just barely once a night."  
"Really..." She trailed off in thought, feeling suddenly... better.  
"You see, that's why I didn't want to tell you. I knew you would go all _Dr. Allen_ on me. They're just a few harmless dreams, Sparky. Not some deranged condition for you to chart and scrutinize like a new toy. If this is what it takes to float your boat, then the christmas presents must have really sucked at your house."  
"Still, they could provide some insight..." Claire prodded.  
"No they can't," Trevor said quickly. "They weren't those kind of dreams. Freud never showed up. And before you ask, neither did any of his family or any elongated shapes or tunnels. This was so totally PG that I almost begged for an appearance by Jerry Springer. Well, almost. "  
"If these dreams were so innocent, Trevor, then obviously you don't have a problem talking about them. So, tell me. What were these dreams about then?" She was curious about what he thought of her. Of what he thought, period.   
Trevor grabbed the towel and turned away to clean the bar, the conversation obviously over since it was one he didn't want to have. Claire reached out and snatched the towel from his hands, forcing him to reluctantly face her. He took one look at her smiling at him.  
"You're enjoying this aren't you?" He asked.  
"More then you could possibly even guess, Trevor."  
Trevor pursed his lips, his mind working to find a way out of telling her.  
"Look," she said, trying to get him to open up," it's only Claire asking now, OK? I've locked Dr. Allen into the basement. I promise. She won't do anything to sneak a peek at your psyche."  
"Psyche has nothing to do with this, Claire. And there's no way I'm going to talk about crazy ex-girlfriends with you. Besides, she wasn't in the dreams anyway."  
"Fine. She wasn't, but I was. Doing what? Wait, I suppose the more immediate question is wearing what?"  
"Don't worry you're head shrinking head. I didn't see anything naughty. Pure PG remember? And please don't spread that particular information around. I don't want it as general knowledge that the god of love, master of amour throughout the ages, has such wholesome dreams. It could be bad for business."  
"I promise,Trevor."  
Trevor took a deep breath and continued slowly. "Let's see, first question. What were you wearing... It was this wide, full ballroom dress. Blue. Long. Flowing. Full coverage of anything remotely arousing. Very you. But still flattering in its way. There's only so many curves you can cover up..."  
Claire stared at him stunned. Trevor stopped, unsure of what he had said to cause that reaction.  
"What? What is it?" he asked.  
"Uh, nothing... It's nothing. Go on."  
"Well, the most recent dream's been repeating, over and over all week. Hated that movie by the way. Took too long to get to the point."  
"I know the feeling.." Claire said to herself.  
"Anyway, the dream was something about a dance in a large ballroom. The first few times I was always late so after a few choice criticisms from you I left. I must have finally done something right because I ended up staying. Then we both walked down and danced all night until... Look, if your mouth hangs open any lower low flying aircraft are going to fly into it. What is it? I mean you can't get any cleaner than this without a mind meld from Mr. Rodgers. What did I say wrong this time?"  
"Oh my god..." Claire began.  
"See, I knew you would finally come around."  
She acted like she didn't hear him, still shocked. "You were wearing a red flower on your lapel, and somehow it was shaped like a heart. It had a small, arrow shaped pin through it. You took me by the arm... and then we both walked down together, descending this long, elegant staircase with gold trim."  
Claire continued her description as the sounds around her seemed to dim to nothing. The whine of the small drill the nearby electrician was using faded away. She watched Trevor as she spoke, and for that moment there was nothing but her and him, and the bar between them. She could hear the ballroom music and sounds in her memory.  
"Champ was there," she said. "Sitting on a throne and wearing a noodle strainer or something as a crown. He was drinking out of this small trophy shaped like a cup. My father was in the corner with his guitar, smiling at us as he led the orchestra. Some of the guests on the ballroom floor wore Halloween costumes, some wore Blackhawks jerseys. Some wore full gowns and tuxedos. Susan and Dan were there. Gabe and Cynthia... all dancing. The first person you danced with was Jaclyn when you saw her alone in the corner waiting for you. Then you let that handsome footman you had talked to earlier cut in, just like you had planned..."  
It was Trevor's turn to looked stunned. he almost forgot where he was as he listened to her describe his dream exactly. "I think I just had A Twilight Zone moment. If you can read my mind, how do you stop yourself from constantly slapping me? How did you know all that?"  
"Because I had the same dream." Claire said.  
Trevor was speechless, a rarity. Claire reached out and pushed up his lower jaw from where it had hung open. He still looked at her as she pulled back her hand. She smiled and pointed to the ceiling. "Low flying aircraft, remember?"  
"Wow. Now we're sharing dreams. I'll show you yours if you show me mine." Trevor nodded to himself as he enjoyed the prospect. "Well, you always wanted to get into my head and you finally did."  
"This is not exactly what I had in mind, Trevor. Anyway, I'm sure it's just a coincidence." This time she was the one who felt uncomfortable.  
"Coincidence? Two identical dreams?" Trevor felt suddenly energized.  
"I'm sure they're not identical, Trevor. They just seem that way through faulty recollection and the power of suggestion."  
Trevor crossed his arms before him and smiled, pleased with himself. "OK, I have an idea.."  
"And the devil gets fitted for another parka..." Claire said.  
"Look, I'm serious. Let's test it, Claire. When Nick went over and hit on that cute swedish princess by whispering in her ear, what did she do?"  
Claire smirked, her expression light. "She threw her drink in his face. But that one's obvious. We are talking about Nick."  
Trevor pressed on as he leaned towards her across the bar. "Who came in and did the dance of a 1000 veils? Well, 975 of them anyway..."  
"That was Mona, of course. Otherwise known as Mary Jean."  
"Right," Trevor said. "That is until Don, otherwise known as Robert, came in and..."  
Claire finished for him. "Swept her off her feet and out the door. Very noble of him."  
"And all those details are mere coincidence?" Trevor's asked incredulously.  
"Yes, Trevor. They are."  
"I can't believe you won't admit it. They were the same dreams!"  
"It wasn't the same dream,Trevor. It was a similar dream. A random event. I mean, think about it We both have a lot of the same friends... we see a lot of the same people. We could have both seen the same fragment of some movie. Or maybe you made some off-handed comment that neither of us remember, that struck both of us in the same way. There are hundreds of possibilities, Trevor. We both have similar experiences and then we incorporated people from our lives to fill in the scenario. Like you just said, Trevor. I _have_ been trying to understand you're mind. So its not all that surprising that I might predict how you think. Disturbing, but not surprising."  
Trevor fixed her with a stare. "And what do you think that we think?"  
Claire thought. For a moment. "Considering who was in the dream, I'd say we both manufactured a construct of my singles group. I mean, they were all there, dancing around each other the way they dance around their feelings, the way they dance around finding a relationship. And the only reason you and I were there together is... because we both, in a way, preside over that dance. Over and over again each week."  
Trevor corrected her. "Until the ratings go down, that is."  
"My point is that, in a way, we both guide them in their search for love. I try to help them one way, and you try to help them the wrong way. But we both try."  
Trevor sighed. "Leave it to you to ruin a perfectly good fantasy..."  
"Fine, Trevor. What do you think that it means?"  
"I think the gods are trying to tell us something."  
"There are no gods, Trevor. And if there were, what could they possibly be interested in trying to tell us?"  
"That we all need to dance more. That maybe that guy Michael, who would dance at the drop of a hat, had it right. That everyone has the need, the urge, to grab life, and dance with each other once and a while. Including you and me."  
Claire considered it. "Maybe," she said.  
Trevor decided to try a different approach. "OK, look. If this was all coincidence, it was probably a one time thing, right? Just one dream among many."  
Claire looked at him, uncertain of where he was going with this. "Right, so..." she said warily.   
Trevor smiled. "When those bedouins attacked our convoy from the sand dunes on the second night of the full moon, what happened?"  
Claire shook her head, surprised again. She couldn't keep the smile off her face. "That guy in the plane from the English patient came flying over and accidentally crashed into them, saving us. Somewhat non-sequitor, even for a dream, don't you think?"  
"Maybe. But you still knew what happened, Claire. When you were caught in front of that calvary charge at Antidem-"  
"You rescued me in that giant hot air balloon shaped like a heart," she finished his sentence, nodding slightly in reluctant acknowledgement. "Appropriate in so many ways."  
"That was smaltzy, I know. Even I'm embarrassed by that one. Until the balloon was shot down by Alex's troops. Of course, then you climbed up onto his horse and rode off with him into the sunset..."  
"Fine, Trevor. You've made your point. So we've had _several_ similar dreams. They're only dreams. It still doesn't mean anything."  
"Except that maybe I really am cupid, and my fellow Olympians are trying to tell you something."  
"Trevor, there are two things that you will never convince me of. One, that you really are cupid, the god of love, who just happens to work as a bartender in Chicago, and two, that we are sharing the same dreams by the subtle graces of the gods. You just won't."  
Trevor came out from behind the bar. He walked towards where she was seated. "Well, there's one way to find out. If we both have been having the same dream the past few nights, then we've both been having the last dance together." He reached his hand out to her in invitation as he placed his other hand behind his back and bowed slightly. "We should have it down pat."  
Claire realized what he was asking and quickly looked around the bar, which was for the most part, empty except for a few people. "Trevor, this is ridiculous."  
"Totally. We'll probably step all over each other's toes."  
"Besides, there's no music..."  
Suddenly the quiet bar was filled with music as a song started up on the jukebox. A single customer was walking away from it, one they had never seen before. The music was a ballad, rich and full, coming from every direction above them. Trevor smiled down at Claire, realizing he couldn't have timed it better even if he had made the attempt. Claire sighed to herself as she smiled slightly and took his hand. Reluctantly she rose to her feet.  
  
_From this moment, life has begun..._  
  
Trevor led her over to the open space in front of where the band usually played. He couldn't believe she was willing to do this. Her hand felt soft and real in his, as the air around them seemed to urge them both forward. A busboy pushed hurridly past, still busy with his duties. The electrician looked up from the mass of wires he was working on, to see them move into position. From his perch atop the ladder, he continued to watch while he worked. Trevor and Claire stood in front of each other, somewhat uncertain of how to proceed. Claire's free hand hesitated in mid-air, trying to decide whether to place it on his shoulder. Trevor liked the fact that she was uncomfortable for once, since it always seemed to be him.  
"See," he motioned around them, "this is a ballroom of sorts. We'll have to get a little closer, though." Calmly he waited, watching her expectantly.  
Claire tilted her head slightly as she considered. "Well, if it will prove you wrong..." She eased up next to him in one fluid motion, and they slowly began to dance.  
It was amazing. With Trevor's arms around her Claire forgot where she was. The music continued, washing over them as they stepped and circled smoothly across the floor. The bar, the windows, the tables... they all seemed to spin slowly around them, almost as if they were dancing too. Together, Trevor and Claire moved easily, never missing a step or getting out of sync with each other. Trevor still felt swept away by how close Claire was, by the touch of her hand in his, while his other hand rested on her hip. The longer they danced, the easier it seemed. In all the days since Trevor had been trying to get to Olympus, he had never felt more content to be where he was then at that moment. With her in his arms.  
  
_From this... moment... on..._  
  


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Claire didn't realize when it happened, but she found herself caught up completely in what they were doing. Her face grew brighter each moment, amazed at how well they danced.  
"Claire..." Trevor asked.  
"Yes, Trevor?"  
"Let's really test this, close your eyes..."  
Claire closed her eyes and didn't question it. Across from her, Trevor did the same thing, and they both danced without sight. They continue to circle around the floor, not seeing anything around them. The dance moved as smoothly as before. Never once did they mis-step or wander into a table, staying easily in each other's arms. With their eyes closed, they began to see other things, began to remember details of the ballroom. The smell of candlewax was almost distinct in the air. Small whispers of a breeze brushed past from the imagined couples dancing around them. Claire laughed softly out loud at the sensation.  
  
_My dreams... came true... because... of you..._  
  
On the sidewalk outside of Taggerty's, Alex walked towards the front entrance. As he walked past he looked in through the window and stopped suddenly where he was. He saw Claire and Trevor inside, dancing in the nearly empty restaurant. Claire was laughing, and Alex's face grew cold as he watched them. Several different emotions passed through him, each whirling around the one before it as his stunned lips parted in silence. After a moment, he considered rushing in to stop them, but his indecision held him in place. As he continued to watch them dance, his heart sank. Finally he turned away when he couldn't bear to see any more. Without realizing it, his hand travelled to the small square box he had brought in his pocket. But as he stared blankly out into the street he couldn't bring himself to take it out. Instead all he could picture was the two of them, Trevor and Claire, dancing in his mind. Without a word, he turned and walked back the way he came.  
Back inside, the song ended as Trevor dipped Claire, both of their eyes still closed. The drop beneath her back felt like a precipice since she couldn't see, and she laughed up at Trevor again as she held his arm tighter. Slowly, Trevor pulled her back up, not missing a step. They both opened their eyes at last.  
Claire still felt elated, warm. "Well... thank you, Trevor. That was... nice. Still, I'm not convinced. That only proves that we both know how to dance."  
Trevor smiled back. "You can't say I didn't try."  
The electrician on the ladder turned back to his work. The bus boy, who had been watching, applauded softly and picked up his dishes, headed for the kitchen. Together, Trevor and Claire moved back to the bar, where she picked up her purse and faced him.  
"You were right, Trevor. It's good to dance every once and a while."  
"Well," Trevor said, "I'm just glad I was here to give your day a little spark."  
Suddenly a shower of sparks rained momentarily down onto the bar from the row of lights above it, followed by a curse from the electrician as he jerked his hand away. Claire and Trevor both looked over at him.  
"Sorry," he apologized. "I must have mis-wired it." He climbed down the ladder on his way to find more parts.  
Claire turned back to Trevor. "I'm... late for a meeting with Alex. I've got to go."  
"I understand."  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Trevor."  
Claire started for the door, but Trevor called out after her. "Or maybe earlier... If our dreams align again tonight. By some random event, of course."  
Claire smiled back at him. "I doubt that... Goodbye, Trevor."  
Trevor watched her leave, his face beaming. His eyes followed her as she walked past the front windows and out of sight. Then he reached up and pinched himself on the arm, hard. He looked around quickly and was relieved that his surroundings didn't change. He didn't suddenly wake up in his bed.  
"Good," he said to himself. "Very, very good." With that he rotated in one quick dance step and went back to work.  
Claire walked along the sidewalk away from Taggerty's, still smiling from her dance with Trevor. She put her arms out to her sides and twirled once, trying to recapture that feeling. As she continued to walk home, she imagined she heard a fragile, delicate music. A melody of soft, lilting notes, coming as if from a music box. Warm and content, she danced all the way down the street.  
  
  
The same music filled Claire's bedroom, coming from the open lid of the music box Trevor had given her for Christmas. Hearing it always reminded her of Trevor, and her thoughts were of him now as she darted around the room getting dressed for her dinner with Alex. Claire finished drying her hair with a towel, having just stepped out of the shower. She dropped it onto her bed as she tightened the second towel wrapped around her chest, considering which dress to put on.  
Softly, Claire began to hum, singing along with the melody from the music box. She moved lightly back and forth across her bedroom floor, carried by her good mood. Claire only stopped momentarily each time, standing before the full length mirror as she held various dresses flat against her. Trying to decide which to wear, she continued to hum. In the end unsatisfied with each dress she picked, she would rush back to the closet to choose another.  
There was little time to get dressed, and she pushed herself to hurry. But somehow it didn't seem to matter. Not really. She couldn't explain it but she felt... almost, giddy. Alive. Never expecting how she would end up today, dancing in an empty bar with Trevor. Just out of the blue. He was still constantly surprising her, no matter how jaded she became about his beliefs. Playing into his delusion as she had, was wrong. But she didn't care. It felt _good_. As the music filled her bedroom, light on the air, Claire still hummed along with it. She felt more like she was dancing, than hurrying.  
Without realizing it, her movements grew more elaborate. Arms out to her sides, she turned and stepped smoothly into the closet again, grabbing a long, elegant black dress. As she turned back, her eyes passed over the clock on her nightstand as the minute changed. Time was short, too short for dancing. So Claire stopped. For a moment. But she couldn't help herself as she started to dance again, dropping the dress she held and singing loudly as she spun. She tilted her head back and smiled, closing her eyes and feeling as if she were floating. A warm, happy, residual feeling from her dance with Trevor. The world held more wonders than she had thought. Trevor had showed them to her. She could almost imagine him in her arms again. And in that moment, Claire didn't mind thinking that she wished they had continued that dance...  
Without warning Claire turned and bumped into someone standing in the room with her. She smiled as she opened her eyes, happy that Trevor had followed her from Taggerty's. That maybe they could find time for one more-  
It was Alex, standing there watching her.  
"Alex," Claire said, trying her best to hide the disappointment on her face. She reached up and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm running a little behind. I was over at Taggerty's talking with Trevor about all the sessions he's been missing with me." Claire hurried back to the closet to grab another dress, the already setting sun flashing golden across her skin. "I'll hurry, I promise. Why didn't you go down there? I told you that's where I would be."  
Alex gave her a level stare. "Yes you did." he turned away, his response muted. "I guess I was running late too. Later than I thought."  
Claire gave him a curious look, wondering what had affected his mood. She turned back to the mirror, only half-way approving of the dress she held. Still, it would have to do. She tossed it onto the bed as she began to untie the towel wrapped around her. She noticed Alex watching her.  
"Now turn around, please. I'm getting dressed."  
"Claire, I have seen you naked, you know. From every conceivable angle, even."  
"Really? I don't remember. Which one were you again? Steve was it...?" She teased him, trying to get him to lighten his mood.  
It seemed to work a little as Alex smiled slightly. "I'm Alex," he said. "I was the guy who loaned you the quarter, and to repay me you... Well, I guess we didn't get to first names before we..."  
"Yeah, I guess not. Oh well, there have been so many..."  
"So I heard..."  
Claire smiled and threw the towel she had wrapped around her at him. "Turn around anyway," she said.  
"Why? As a psychiatrist you must realize how ridiculous it is."  
"Just call it a girl thing. Turn around please."  
As Alex faced the other way Claire quickly slipped into her undergarments before pulling on her dress. She moved over to the dresser and pulled out a small necklace from Trevor's music box, a small necklace with a diamond heart on it. She quickly latched it around her neck, her hair still wet and dishevelled.  
"OK, you can look now."  
Alex turned around. Claire tried to frame the necklace with her hands, uncertain of the unfinished impact with the wet hair. "I thought I would wear this..." she began.  
Alex didn't understand why she thought he would recognize the necklace. He walked up to her slowly, looking at it. He reached out with his hand and lifted it softly off her skin, examining it. "It's nice, where did you get it?" he asked.  
Claire seemed surprised. Where...? Hadn't it been a gift from him last Valentine's day, sent to her when he had been in New York? "What do you mean where did I get it? Didn't-" she stopped herself, quickly realizing what had happened. "Trevor..." she muttered angrily to herself. Looking up at Alex she tried to cover. "I got it from Trevor. A gift to commemorate the first annual Cupid's Day."  
"Cupid's day?"  
"Valentine's Day. Trevor doesn't like some musty old saint taking all his credit. I thought it was... appropriate since... well, since he brought us together..."  
The more Alex looked at the necklace, the emptier his face grew. Claire quickly took it off. "Maybe some other time..." she said as she put it away. Trevor would hear it from her about this little stunt.  
Alex nodded to himself, seeming to have come to a decision.  
"Look, Alex. As soon as I finish my hair, slap a little something on my face, we'll be on our way."  
"Sure, Claire. But there was something I wanted to talk to you about first."  
"Sure."  
"Sit down, please." He motioned towards the bed.  
Slowly Claire did, feeling slightly ridiculous in an slinky evening gown with her hair still wet from the shower.  
"Claire, you know that I love you. Deeply. You mean everything to me. I can't think of my life with out you. Without you with me. But lately, I've started to realize something. Something coming between us. Something we need to address."  
Claire looked over at the necklace, hoping that Alex wasn't getting the wrong idea.  
"Look, Alex. It was just a gift. A little on the elaborate side, but given in friendship. I'm sure it-"  
Claire stopped in mid-sentence as Alex formally, slowly, knelt down. Onto one knee. A sudden understanding passed through her, and she felt out of place, as if she were a spectator in her own body. The bed, the furniture, the apartment, all seemed to look back at her as strangers. She tried to grasp, to accept what was happening. What she hadn't expected. Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, holding it gently up to her as she sat on the bed.  
"I've got to be honest, Claire. I came to Chicago not just hoping to spend the week with you. I came hoping to spend my life with you."  
Claire was frozen, held by surprise and shock. The melody from Trevor's music box still played softly in the quiet room.  
Alex carefully opened the lid on small box he held, revealing a glittering ring beneath, adorned with a huge diamond, flashing like a cold blue star in the fading sunlight.  
"Claire, will you marry me?"  
She didn't know what to say. Staring off into the distance, she knew she should be thinking about Alex's offer, but she wasn't. Instead she found herself staring at Trevor's music box, the small ivory angel on its top upside down and slanted as it hung from the open lid.  
She wasn't even aware of when she answered, as if someone else spoke instead of her.  
"Alex.. yes. I will marry you."  
Before she realized it, Alex was kissing her, and slowly she responded. His kiss was warm, safe, familiar. The kind of kiss you spent your lifetime with, if not the kind of kiss you spent your lifetime for. She circled her arms around him.  
Alex finally pulled back. "That's great, Claire. I love you so much. I'm hoping you'll move to New York with me..."  
"New York?" she asked, surprised.  
"Well, yes. If we're going to be married we should at least live in the same city. Don't worry. You moving is not a deal breaker or anything, I'll marry you any way I can, but I want you with me. I want to spend each available second with you. With you as my wife."  
Claire looked reluctant.  
"Look, I'm sure you could sell just as many books in New York, more even. The city's full of neurotic people for you to treat. Unless... something's holding you back. Is there a reason you should stay here?"  
Claire looked into his eyes, trying to understand the man before her. She knew who that 'something' referred to by his level stare.  
"No," she said. "There's no one here that I should stay for."  
"Great," he smiled. "That's great, Claire. You'll love New York."  
"I'm sure I will."  
"We're going to be so happy together." He kissed her again.  
Claire smiled as he pulled back, his enthusiasm becoming infectious as it spread through her. Playfully she pushed his shoulder.  
"Now get out of here. I still need to get dressed."  
"Sure, a girl thing... I know." He kissed her quickly once more and left the room, leaving her sitting there alone. The sunlight faded as the sun dipped completely beneath the horizon, dropping Claire into soft twilight.  
Claire sat quietly for several seconds, thinking about what had just happened. She felt a strand of wet hair clinging to her cheek and she pushed it away. She looked at herself in the mirror, hair soaking and dressed in an evening gown, and she smiled at the image. The smile faded as she heard the music still playing. Her eyes shifted to Trevor's music box.  
Slowly, she got up and walked towards it. She thought about the dance they had shared that afternoon. It had been great, wonderful even. But it had passed and was over. It was time to move on. Reluctantly, she closed the music box, her fingers lingering on the angel on its lid, as the music... stopped.  
  
  


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The Chicago sky sparkled wide and blue over the bustling mid-morning traffic beneath it. A rich sunlight poured warmly over the towering faces of office buildings in the busy city, driving away the last chills of the cool morning. It was a beautiful day, crisp and new, and it spoke of promise and hope. As Claire Allen walked along the sidewalk, she looked up and tried to smile. Soaking in the brightness of her surroundings, she yearned to gather in some of the sunny optimism that seemed to elude her.  
She felt contented with her decision. Marrying Alex was the smartest thing she could do. He was intelligent, caring, handsome... everything she could ever want. Then why wasn't she happier? As she gazed up at the buildings around her, glittering in the fresh air, she considered her subdued reaction. She felt sad even, and she didn't know why. She would miss Chicago. It would be hard to leave, but that wasn't it. She felt no rush, no anticipation for the life ahead of her. Something was missing. Something she felt she had lost.  
_OK, It's not like I'm abandoning him,_ she thought to herself. Her leaving was, in the end, probably the best thing for Trevor. Maybe Alex was right. If he was holding on to his delusion only to stay near her, or if he did it out of sheer stubbornness to not let her win, either was damaging. Without her around as an incentive against accepting his humanity, perhaps Trevor could finally make some progress. She cared a lot for Trevor, and that personal dynamic had more than likely affected their doctor-patient relationship. he was constantly in her dreams. Her perspective was undoubtedly compromized. She did want him to get better, didn't she? Her leaving was the right thing.  
A smile slowly spread across her face. Without a doubt, she would miss him. The way his smile blossomed with eagerness when he saw her. His genuine happiness when two people he nudged together (sometimes, threw was more like it) in the end finally acknowledged their feelings for each other. A honest reaction beyond just sliding another bead over in payment for his return to some delusional Olympus. His enthusiasm for the power of love. His undying hope for a happy ending. His unfettered romanticism towards embracing life. She would miss the way he would cheer her up when she was down. Or deflate her ego when it had gotten too big. She caught herself thinking and stopped suddenly.  
"I'm beginning to sound like a Hallmark card," she muttered to herself, annoyed.  
More than likely Trevor was in love with her. She wasn't blind to it, after all. Although sometimes she preferred to pretend she was. She wasn't totally certain of it either, considering his 'condition'. But she was certain enough that it had reached a point where she could no longer help him. It was time to step back and accept that.  
A car honked at her from the street and she turned towards it. Pulling up to the curb was a factory-new VW bug, its shiny red finish blinding in the sunlight. A voice called out to her from the interior.  
"CLAIRE!" The voice was softer as it spoke to the driver. "Hey, man. Thanks for the lift. You did the right thing."  
The car door opened and Trevor bounded out, smiling at her. He hurried towards her before remembering to turn back and close the car door. "I'll see you later P-man," he told the person inside. "You take care." With that the car pulled away and Claire caught a glimpse of its license plate.  
  
LUV-HLS  
  
"Sparky! How are you this fine morning? I was thinking, you probably need to consider finding a new nickname. Your patients must really worry about your treatment techniques with one like 'Sparky'. I have several suggestions that come to mind..."  
"Or from somewhere lower, I'm sure. Hello, Trevor. I'm on my way to my office. There's a few... matters that I need to clear up with my supervisors. So. In all the sidewalks, in all the cities, what brings you to mine?"  
"A god's appreciation of art? Actually, I just wanted to enjoy the air. Besides when I see a beautiful woman like yourself walking alone, my world suddenly makes less sense. So I decided to join you."  
"Your world makes _less_ sense? I guess when it rains it pours." Claire nodded towards the street. "Who was that in the car?"  
"Just an old friend of mine. Of both of ours actually, now that I think about it. Preston Milke."  
"That... was Preston Milke?"  
"Yeah. He didn't seem to remember you. Funny, since you sounded like you knew him. I was helping him pick out a new car."  
"Really," Claire said. "And where did you meet Mr. Milke?"  
Trevor smiled, realizing what she was implying.  
"Here and there."  
Claire looked at him meaningfully. "Oh, I'm sure."  
"I met the milk man the first week I was here. In the ward at Lakeview before you finally got me out. No need to smirk."  
"I'm aware of all the patients at Lakeview, Trevor. There was no-"  
"Alias. He used an alias. He really stressed the importance of not giving a real name since some people would try to use it against you." He smiled at her sweetly. "It was good advice so I decided to return the favor today. We talked quite a bit actually, back in Lakeview. Preston's a big fan of game shows."  
"Fine, Trevor. I'll take your word for it."  
"I came to tell you that I'm sorry Claire."  
That lifted her eyebrow. "Sorry?"  
"For missing our sessions. I won't do it any more, I promise." Trevor actually sounded sincere.  
Claire turned and started walking. Trevor hurried to keep up, dodging through the busy sidewalk crowd to stay at her side. He spoke in fits and starts as he sporadically came near.  
"I mean," he continued, "I was actually starting to feel happy and accepted as the god of love and then I realized I wasn't used to it. The sessions will be a good way for me to get my Claire fix before I actually start liking myself."  
"Considering your vow of abstinence, liking yourself probably isn't a problem. Regardless, it's sort of a moot point now."  
"Look, I said I'm sorry and I'll do better. What more do you want?"  
She didn't look at him. "A private sidewalk? Regardless, it doesn't matter."  
"Why not?"  
Claire started walking faster, hoping that the quicker she went the quicker their conversation would end. Telling Trevor what she had to tell him was not something she wanted to do.  
"There won't be any more sessions, Trevor."  
"Fine by me. I've always felt we might use some more unorthodox methods. I know this clothing-optional bar with a great hot tub..."  
Claire finally stopped walking, turning to face him.  
"Trevor, I can't be your therapist any more."  
His face looked shocked as he stopped next to her. The crowd flowed past in either direction as they stood silently facing each other for a few moments.  
"What do you mean?" Trevor asked cautiously.  
Claire took a nervous breath. "I mean... what I'm trying to say... is that I can't treat you any more."  
Out of nowhere, Trevor smiled again. "You mean I finally did it? I've finally convinced you that I'm really Cupid?"  
"No, Trevor. I can't believe that because your not... Cupid, I mean. And frankly, we both have to face certain facts."  
Trevor's smile evaporated as his face grew more concerned. He blinked and tried to speak, but his voice remained slightly flustered. "Then I... I don't understand what-"  
"Trevor, I'm giving up! I've already consulted with my supervisors at Lakeview over the phone and they've come to agree with me. I'm on my way to clear some final things up right now. I've had zero progress with your case, so they're consulting me to assign you to someone else."  
Trevor's jaw held a hard line as he looked at her. "Well, that depends on how you define progress."  
"Progress is some sign Trevor, some small indication that you are getting better. Well... you're not. And I'm sorry but the hospital and I have decided that its time you moved on to another therapist."  
"I don't want somebody else. I want you."  
Claire leaned her head and looked away as if afraid that was what he was going to say. "Look... Trevor. I can't help you any more. Maybe someone else can do a better job. Achieve the breakthrough I couldn't. You may not want to hear this, but you need to get well." Trevor turned from her angrily as Claire continued. "And I'm just holding you back."  
"Holding me back? How?" He looked at her. "What's some new guy going to do that you don't? Except maybe dope me up and tie me down? It's because of you that I've avoided all that. You're the one that's let me live my life."  
"Trevor, that's the point."  
"What point? How has that held me back?" he asked.  
"You want to know? You really want to know?" Her voice took on an angry edge of its own. "Fine, I'll tell you. I've held you back because I'm way too fond of you Trevor."  
He held out his arms to his sides. "Is that a crime? Aren't you allowed to like your patients?"  
"Trevor, I've lost my objectivity! I can't be certain I'm giving you an unbiased evaluation any more. You've invaded my thoughts, my dreams. I need some space! I was warned about this from the beginning. I like you too much to question what's happening. To you. To _us_. The concept that love conquer's all, that passion is the paramount force in the universe, that love is the only thing worth fighting for. Your delusion can be quite... seductive and I'm afraid I've been caught up in it. Caught up in you. Umm...your outlook, I mean. So I have to question whether or not I've tried hard enough to help you... because I like you the way you are."  
Trevor reached out and held her shoulders as he looked straight into her eyes. For once she didn't shake him off. "You don't question my beliefs about love because you've always believed those things yourself. Long before I ever came along. And why not? All of them are absolutely true. What's so crazy in believing in true love anyway? In believing that we all have somebody we're destined to be with? With trying to find that pure, precious love for someone else? Or if your lucky, yourself? I try to make two people happy and then I try it with two more. Where's the delusion in that?"  
"Looking for love is not the delusion, Trevor. Believing you're the _god_ of love is."  
"But how is that bad? How does that hurt me?"  
As gently as she could, she reached up and took his hands off her shoulders. Looking into his eyes she tried to fill her voice with understanding, hoping he would see. "Because its a fantasy. It's not who you really are."  
"Don't I have a say in who I really am?"  
"You can't create yourself, Trevor."  
"People create themselves everyday! They create themselves into doctors, lawyers," he motioned towards her, "psychologists. So what's so wrong with believing your Cupid? Even if it were a delusion, which it most certainly is _NOT_, as delusions go its not so bad. It's not like I have family problems...."  
"The god of love didn't have family problems?"  
"Well, let me see... Mama's alright. Daddy's alright..."  
Claire finished for him. "They're both just a little weird... Yeah I know the lyric. I'm surprised you get Cheap Trick on Olympus."  
"You _would_ be surprised what we get on Olympus. Although I prefer the song 'I want you to want me' for obvious reasons. Why is it that you can create me into the image of what I should be, but I'm not allowed to do that for myself? Of the two of us, who has the bigger delusions of god-hood here..."  
"What I'm doing is trying to make you face reality so you can get better, Trevor. What you're doing is running away from it." Claire turned and moved off as if her point were made. Trevor followed at her side, unconvinced. He did his best to stay even with her as she walked faster.  
"For someone running away, I'm sure having a hard time catching up. Face reality? I never question who _you_ are, Claire. I accept you as the stubborn, beautiful, caring person you seem to me. Yet you do nothing but question who I am. I believe in you, Claire. Why can't you believe in me?" They both stopped again.  
"Regardless, Trevor." Claire looked at him, her expression a mixture of caring and sadness as she saw the emotions on his face. She felt something deeply for him in that moment, something she couldn't explain to herself. She was silent for several seconds, uncertain of what she should say. A small breeze danced through her hair as the crowd on the sidewalk passed behind her. Her eyes were full and brown, dilated in the bright sunshine. Trevor had never seen her look at him that way, had never seen her more beautiful. He felt himself melt.  
"Trevor, as hard as it is to do, it's time for both of us to move on. So I have to say this now while I still have the chance. It's been a pleasure knowing you. We've had a lot of fun together. I'll miss you... everyday, because I'll remember you everyday. But I doubt we'll ever see each other again. Goodbye, Trevor." She started to walk away, afraid he would see the moisture forming in her eyes.  
"No, Claire. Wait... please." Trevor moved to stop her but held back. He called out to her as she left, his voice more stern than it had been. "I think you owe me more than that, Claire."  
"I _owe_ you?" She turned back towards him, her voice incredulous.  
"You owe me. More than just 'Goodbye. I'll never see you again' ." He looked at her from where he stood, hoping she would come back. "You owe me at least a reason. And don't give me the 'zero progress' speech again. That's about as phony as an ABC exec with taste. You've been making zero progress with me for almost a year. Why the sudden change of heart? Why now Claire?"  
Reluctantly she walked back up to him. Then finally she told him. "Because I won't be here, Trevor. I'm moving to New York. As soon as possible."  
"To be with Alex?" Trevor asked like it made no sense.  
Slowly Claire raised her hand into the light. The engagement ring Alex had given her glittered between them as she watched Trevor's reaction. His expression fell when he realized what it was, and he looked away. A deep pit felt like it had opened in his chest.  
"He asked me to marry him, Trevor. And I said yes."  
"You can't do this, Claire. You can't marry Alex."  
"I love him," she said simply.  
"It's a mistake, Claire. He's not the one for you."  
Claire's eyes narrowed as she grew annoyed. "Not the one for me? This coming from the self-proclaimed god of love who set us up..."  
"Well, I was wrong. Actually I never really felt that--"  
"You have a lot of nerve, Trevor. Maybe Alex was right about you."  
"Right about what? What has Mr. Chiselled-Chin been saying about me?"  
"That you've been trying to break us apart all along, Trevor. That you always had other plans. I just told you that I'm getting _married_. One more all important bead for Trevor Hale's grand delusion. And what's your reaction? 'Don't do it, Claire. It's a mistake, Claire.' Strange attitude for someone who's mission in life is to match me up with my true love."  
"I am. But Alex isn't it. There's no bead there. I know it. I feel it in my gut, my heart, Claire."  
"You have no special insight, Trevor. You're a flawed human being just like the rest of us. Capable of the same mistakes. Stop me if you've heard this before..."  
"Well, then those flaws apply to both of us, don't they. If you would just be honest with yourself, you'd see that I'm right. Follow your heart, Claire. You don't want to marry Alex."  
"You know, Cupid or not... how do you have any right to tell me who I love or what I want?"  
"Because you're not willing to tell yourself."  
Claire took offense. "Well, I am an adult, Trevor. I can make my own decisions."  
"Fine. Then make this one."  
"I have," she said petulantly.  
"Have you? Or did Alex make it for you?"  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"Are you marrying him because it's what you want or because he asked? Because it's what you believe should happen next on some relationship flow chart. If you ask me, that's the easy way out of actually having to live your own life."  
"Now you just hold it right there, Trevor." Angrily she wondered why she always forgot how annoying he could be sometimes.  
Trevor talked right over her objection, trying to make his point. "Don't play it safe, Claire. Life's too precious to play it safe. Look, I've only been mortal for a short time, but it's been long enough for me to realize how fleeting this existence is. You don't get a second chance at this one moment, this one life. You have to make the most out of every minute, every second. Squeeze them for all the joy that their worth. You can't do that following schedules and agendas! You've got to take chances, break rules... listen to your cardio-muscle. Fpr example, what did you dream about last night, Claire?"  
"Oh no! Don't start that up again!" she said.  
Trevor pressed his question. "What did you dream about?"  
"Trevor, people dream all the time..."  
"Yes and dreams are an answer to a question we're afraid to ask. To a question you _need_ to ask. Your dreams are there for a reason, Claire. You have to face them wothout being afraid."  
She placed her hands on her hips as she gave him an angry stare. "What do you think I'm afraid of, Trevor?"  
"Of your feelings. That maybe you don't love Alex."  
"Oh. So in your godly, yet strangely sporadic, insight you've decreed from on high that I'm afraid to face my feelings. Fine. Let's see if the pot dresses in kettle black, shall we? Let's talk about your feelings for a second. Or are you afraid?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Claire."  
"Don't know? Or is it that you don't want to know. You don't want to know that you can be anything _less_ than a god. Either way, I think deep down you know exactly what I'm talking about."  
"Is this ever going to find a line of sight to the point, Claire?"  
"Since I've known you, Trevor, you've done nothing but hit on me. Little sexual innuendoes here, making quick glances there. Why do you bother? What's the point? I think you hide behind them because your afraid of how you really feel, as simple and as human as that is. So. Let's get it all out into the open." She motioned to the bustling sidewalk around her as people walked by, for the most part ignoring them. "Since I can't say I've had much success in figuring you out in the last year, why don't you help me out with a little honesty. No more games..."  
"I don't play games, Claire."  
She reached into her pocket and carefully took out the necklace Trevor had given her. She held it out to him, firmly clutched in her hand. "Case in point, Trevor. _You_ gave me this. You. Without a doubt you knew I would figure that little fact out the second that Alex didn't recognize it. It was inevitable, so why did you give it to me? What did you hope to accomplish?"  
"I was trying to help out, Claire. I was trying to keep Alex and you together."  
"And now you're trying to keep us apart."  
Claire paused for a moment, frustrated as she tried to understand his motives. She held back tears as she confronted him. "I mean... what do you want from me, Trevor? To get me into bed so I can be another notch on your 3000 year old bedpost? Maybe I'm just a quick roll in the hay so you can cast off your immortal coil and destroy any hope of going back to Olympus. After all, you've said several times that you can't go back if you have sex with a mortal, yet you constantly imply that that's exactly what you want from me. So what am I supposed to make of that, Trevor? Is sex all that you're after? Or is sex what you use to push away something more. Something deeper than the afterglow from an afternoon quickie. I mean... do you have feelings for me? Are you in love with me? Come on, tell me, Trevor." Her last few sentences were pleading and quiet.  
Trevor found he couldn't answer her. He felt the pull of the words inside him, but he couldn't force them out. "What I want is..." his voice faltered. "I guess, what my feelings are..."  
Claire nodded to herself, as she wiped away a tear. "Well, that's what I thought. And you say I'm the one who's afraid to face my feelings."  
"Claire," Trevor began softly. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. To find someone who loves you as much as you love them. Where every moment is a triumph of pure love, requited and boundless. And you're right. That can only come from the person that _you_ choose, it can't be chosen for you. Not by Cupid, and not by Alex."  
"You believe that person's you, don't you? Is that what you've been trying to tell me all along instead of just being honest with me?"  
"I'm not the one who can answer that question, Claire."  
"Maybe not, but is it what you _believe_?"  
"I... don't know." The words still didn't come, no matter how hard he tried  
"You know, I was hoping to get a straight answer out of you for once. But I was crazy to think that I could. Forget it, Trevor. It doesn't matter any more." She threw the necklace against his chest, where it fell to the sidewalk between them. Trevor looked down at it, then up at her. His eyes were filled with sadness.  
"Goodbye, Trevor." Her words were hard and deliberate as she spoke. "I'm moving to New York. I'm marrying Alex. And I don't think I'll miss you as much as I thought." She turned and without another word walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk as the crowd flowed past him along with her. He watched her leave, hoping she would turn back but knowing she wouldn't. He had never felt so alone in his life. Slowly, Trevor knelt down to pick up the necklace from the sidewalk where it lay abandoned in the sun. As he clutched it into his hand, he was finally able to speak.  
"I love you, Claire..."  
A tear fell down his cheek as he said it. But standing alone in a city full of people walking by, there was no on there to hear it. Trevor turned and walked towards home.  
  
  


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Unheard as they moved through the air, radio waves flowed ceaselessly across the clear sky of Chicago. Hands all over the city pushed tuning buttons or turned nobs as hundreds of radios wandered through the static, searching the airwaves. An occasional sound broke through, of a voice or a fragment of music ,as reception slid across the spectrum. Then finally, all over the city, several radios tuned in to one station, as a lively voice spoke to them from on high.  
  


     This is OLYP, Chicago's premiere station for Golden Oldies from the dawn of time. Believe me, some mornings it really feels that way. Here's another blast from the past that still has meaning for today. It could be a dream of what you want, it could be a dream of what you've lost. Either way, heartbreak never goes out of style. No matter _who_ you are...  
  

_When a man loves a woman, can't keep his mind on nothing else..._  
  
Trevor wandered the streets in a haze for the rest of the day. He barely noticed as the once clear sky was broken with wisps of cloud pushed by a tumultuous wind. Light and shadows flowed over buildings and streets in rapid succession, a time lapse effect that held no wonder for him. After a few hours, he found himself seated high above the city, not realizing how he had gotten there. But he had been there before.  
Resting atop the domed peak of the Chicago observatory, Trevor barely glanced at the hyper-active sky above him. Clouds sped overhead in a blur as he sat motionless, letting the afternoon light quickly shift its angle on his still form. Like a statue he watched the horizon, as the sun sped towards it like a sprinter.  
  
_He'll trade the world for the good thing he's found..._  
  
Seated before a polished wood conference table in her office building, Claire tried her best to keep her attention on the meeting at hand. Arrayed along the table's edge were the other doctors and administrators of the hospital. As a group they went through her case load, asking questions about each individual patient and assigning them to other therapists. Claire looked down at the patient files stacked before her and noticed the folder with the name Trevor Hale buried several deep.  
As the meeting continued, she realized she was distracted, daydreaming, constantly having to stop herself from glancing at Trevor's name. Suddenly she reached out and straightened the pile of folders, covering his file underneath them. Looking up she nodded with the group as they came to some conclusion she hadn't heard about one of her other patients. Calmly, they all removed that file and moved to the next one beneath it. Claire looked out the window as the sun began to set. Bands of orange light fell across her face as they flowed through the window blinds. Claire didn't notice as she brought her hand up to twist Alex's ring around her finger, almost as if it felt uncomfortable there.  
  
_When a man loves a woman, Spend his very last dime trying to hold on to what he needs. He'd give up all his comfort, sleep out in the rain, If she said that's the way it ought to be..._  
  
It was morning again and the sun sped skywards as quickly as it had gone down the day before. Trevor continued wandering aimlessly, having not gone home. He didn't notice as he crossed before a bus which was forced to screech to a halt. As he approached a sidewalk vendor, one of the fresh flowers for sale in the display began to wilt as he passed. Still, Trevor barely saw much of anything as he continued onward, moving out of sight.  
The instant he was gone Champ came down the street, looking all around as if searching for something. He walked up to the street vendor and gave him a description of Trevor, asking if he had seen him. The man shook his head, once again absorbed in the sports section of the newspaper he held. As Champ walked into the morning sunshine, the vendor looked over in surprise at one of his flowers. It had wilted far quicker than the others. Shrugging his shoulders, he plucked it out of the bunch and without a second thought dropped it into his trash can.  
  
The last remnants of the dream began to fade with remembered lips on hers. When Claire opened her eyes, Alex was kissing her in the glow of sunrise. He hugged her explaining that he was in the middle of cooking her a breakfast in bed, and it would be ready in a few minutes. Claire sat up as he darted back to the kitchen, stretching her arms as she tried to wake herself. Inadvertently, her fingers brushed against the flowers on her nightstand. As she looked over at them, one object stood out: a small plastic wand for blowing bubbles that she had placed amongst the blossoms. Tied around it with a ribbon was a small note from Trevor. It read, _Jeff Spinna had great taste in women._ Claire pulled out the wand and smiled, thinking about Trevor.  
Once she realized what she was doing she forced her smile away. Leaning over she dropped the wand and its note into the waste basket beside her nightstand, Grabbing her notebook computer she flipped open its lid and started the word processor, her lips still pursed in annoyance as she thought about Trevor. A little too forcefully, she punched a title into the keyboard. Then, as she read what she'd written, she became uncomfortable. Unhappy with her work, she turned the computer off, replacing it on the nightstand.  
  
_Well, this man loves a woman, I gave you everything I had, Trying to hold on to your precious love, Baby, Please don't treat me so bad..._  
  
He had finally found him. Champ waited patiently on the observation deck for Trevor to come down from his high perch. Silently, they both watched the clear sunset sky, as it turned orange, then purple, then black. Trevor looked down as Champ waited in the twilight, and he finally climbed off the domed roof. Standing beside each other, they said nothing. But Champ understood, and he placed his hand on Trevor's shoulder in sympathy.  
  
_She can bring him such misery... Lovin' eyes can't ever see..._  
  
Claire sat across from a darkened table from Alex as two candles flickered between them while they had dinner. Claire's face was silent and downcast, melancholy even. Concerned for her, Alex asked her what was wrong. Giving him a weak smile she told him it was nothing as she poked at her plate.  
  
Trevor wandered through the crowd at Taggerty's without much enthusiasm. One of the regulars who knew him called him over to the dartboard where he handed him a mug of beer and several darts. Trevor played along, having performed the trick a dozen times before. Holding the glass so he could see the reflected dartboard, Trevor took aim and slashed his arm forward. His shot went wide and sunk into the wall, finally coming loose and clattering to the floor.  
  
_When a man loves a woman, he can do no wrong..._  
  
Holding several boxes in one arm and her computer the other, Claire opened her front door. As the night air rushed across her doorstep she gave Alex a quick kiss, explaining that she had some final packing to do at her office. At least that was what she told herself. Asking her to come home soon, Alex smiled and kissed her again. She nodded and softly closed the door. Turning, Claire leaned her back against it as she looked up at the night sky, desperately searching for a way to snap out of her depression. Sighing, she closed her eyes and waited, twisting the ring on her finger.  
  
Back home at last, Trevor rotated the first bead on his string, pushing it with his finger. He had been talking to Claire on the phone the night that bead had moved over. He hadn't realized that secretly he had hoped that it had moved for Claire and him, and not for the other couple he had tried to set up that week. Now it seemed that couldn't be true. Trevor sat down and looked out his bedroom window at the city glittering beyond like stars in a night sky. A sky that gave no solace, and offered no answers. Trevor bowed his head in silence as he closed his eyes.  
  
_Yes when a man loves a woman, I know exactly how he feels, 'Cause baby, baby, baby, you're my world...When a man loves a woman._  
  
All across Chicago the song cadenced and ended. Several hundred fickle hands reached for several hundred nobs and buttons. Already they began to turn the channel, searching the airwaves to see what else was on.  
  
  
  
The hallways of Claire's office building were empty and echoing, since most of the others who worked there had gone home long before. As Claire walked down the hallway towards her office, boxes and her laptop shoved under her arms, she was surprised to see Jaclyn behind the reception desk. Jaclyn looked up as Claire approached, working on several papers under the glow of a desk lamp.  
"Dr. Allen. I thought you had left already."  
"Hello, Jaclyn. Yes I did. I went home to have dinner with Alex. But I needed to come back to do some last minute packing. I didn't expect to see you still here. I'm getting a nagging suspicion that you work too hard."  
"We all do, Dr. Allen. I was trying to get your records organized before you leave. And I was working on... well, some application letters and my resume."  
Claire nodded, sympathiz"Well, if you ever need another dozen glowing letters of recommendation, you can always count on me. I, better than anyone, know how invaluable you are. And... if you ever find yourself in New York, you'll always have a job in my office. I promise."  
"No. I'd prefer to stay here. Besides, you'll need someone to keep an eye on Trevor," Jaclyn smiled.  
Claire's smile bounced back incomplete, a mixture of caring and sadness passing across her face as she spoke. "I'm sure you will, Jaclyn. I know how much you care about him. He's lucky to have a friend like you."  
Jaclyn motioned between them. "Like the both of us, Dr. Allen."  
"I suppose. Like both of us. We're certainly more than he deserves, aren't we? Anyway, I'm not going to be your boss much longer. Please, no more _Dr. Allen_, OK? Call me Claire."  
"Claire." Jaclyn's smile widened even further.  
Claire noticed her reaction and felt touched. Putting her things down on the reception desk between them she quickly stepped around it and gave Jaclyn a warm hug. Jaclyn returned it, sensing the sadness in Claire's shoulders, a sadness brought on by more than Claire's feelings towards her.  
"Dr. Allen, is something wrong?"  
"No. Nothing." Claire pulled back. "I'm just going to miss you, that's all."  
Jaclyn's brow furrowed in concern. She could hear it in Claire's voice despite what she said. Something was bothering her. But she realized that Claire didn't want to talk about it.  
"Do you know if Dr. Greely is still in the building?" Claire asked, ignoring Jaclyn's worried look.  
"I think I saw him a few minutes ago. They all had a late board meeting."  
"Well, I needed to give him..." Claire searched through her boxes until she pulled out a vanilla envelope, handing it to Jaclyn, "my official letter of resignation. Could you run that over to his office for me? I should do it myself, but I'm just... not in the mood to face him right now."  
Jaclyn looked down sadly at the envelope she held. It felt solid and real in her hands, reinforcing the fact that Claire was actually leaving. "Sure," she said.  
"Thank you. Thank you very much." Claire picked up her things and opened the door to her office. Jaclyn's hand on her shoulder stopped her.  
"Dr. Allen..., I mean Claire?"  
"Yes, Jaclyn."  
"Trevor's going to miss you too."  
Claire smiled and sniffed once. "Thanks, Jaclyn." She moved into her office as Jaclyn softly closed the door behind her. Somehow she knew Claire needed to be alone. With one more glance between the folder she held and Dr. Allen's name on her door, Jaclyn turned and moved down the empty hallway, heading for the director's office.  
  
As Jaclyn approached Dr. Greely's office, she saw that his secretary had gone home for the evening. The reception desk before his door was deserted. A voice leaked into the hallway through a sliver of open space from the office door, slightly ajar. Moving closer, Jaclyn realized the director was on the phone, talking with someone. Uncertain she should interrupt, she paused, listening to gauge the importance of the call.  
"Yes, we've just come to our conclusion tonight," the director was saying. "All the rest of Dr. Allen's case load has been re-assigned. And though she may protest when she hears of our decision, we've given his case over to you. Well... considering his continued delusional state and his resistance to conventional therapy, we all felt that a more physiological approach was called for. No... I'll tell her in the morning. No need to ruin her evening. yes, I'm sure you'll be able to help him. After all, Trevor is an ideal candidate for your drug. I'll send all of Mr. Hale's files over to your office tomorrow, Dr Frechette. Yes, thank you. Goodbye."  
Jaclyn stood there stunned as she listened in the darkened hallway. There had been nights away from the office, usually at Taggerty's across the street, when in a more relaxed setting Claire had told her of the dangers of Dr. Frechette's drug. Claire had always done everything she could to keep Trevor out of Frechette's clutches. This would crush her. Infuriate her. Jaclyn had to tell her immediately. She turned and headed back to Claire's office, running.  
Halfway there she stopped, growing more panicked by the second as she considered it. In all honesty, what could Dr. Allen really do? As of tomorrow, or tonight if she delivered that letter, Trevor was no longer her patient. Once she left for New York, there was nothing preventing Dr. Frechette from using his drug. It was too late to stop it. Only one solution came to mind. Trevor. She had to warn Trevor. Jaclyn turned again and ran back the way she had just come, towards the front door. Hopefully, Claire would take a while to notice she was gone.  
At the water cooler outside his office, Dr. Greely stepped back after having taken a drink. Turning just as Jaclyn came running past, she forced him to scramble to get out of her way. He heard a quick "sorry", but she didn't stop. Wondering who it was who had almost run him down, he watched as she sped down the hallway. Wasn't that Dr. Allen's assistant? Why were things always so..._off_, in that office? Oh well, he thought. Dr. Allen was a gifted psychologist. The hospital was sorry to lose her. He turned back to his office.  
Jaclyn finally burst through the front doors and into the night air. She paused as she thought to herself, wondering if she was crazy for doing this. She realized she wasn't. This had to work. She had to save the god of love. Not crazy at all.  
  
Trevor rose from where he sat by the window as he quickly moved through Champ's darkened apartment towards the front door. Someone was outside knocking on it loudly, frantically even. He was in a hurry to make it stop.  
"Wait, I'm coming already! Don't get you're toga in a knot! Don't strangle your-" He pulled the front door open and Jaclyn immediately rushed in, out of breath as if she had been running.  
"Trevor! I've come to warn you!"   
"Jaclyn, calm down. What is it?"  
"You can't stay here, Trevor! Whatever you do you can't let them do it!"  
"I can't stop them, Jaclyn. they're determined to get married and there's nothing I can--"  
"No, that's not it! I'm talking about the hospital, Trevor! They've assigned you to another therapist!"  
"Yeah, I know. Claire told me they would. What bozo did they dredge up from the shallow end of the fun pool to try to--"  
"Trevor, listen to me!" She grabbed his shoulders, frantic. "They gave you're case to Dr. Frechette! Thorax-B? Do you recognize that?"  
"Dr. Fre... he got my case?" His voice sounded like it was unthinkable.  
"Yes! They're going to fill you up with that drug! You can't let them, Trevor." Jaclyn was still trying to catch her breath.  
"Well... there's no way Claire would let them."  
"Trevor, she doesn't even know. I was just at director Greely's office when I overheard. They've made their decision and they don't care what Claire thinks."  
Trevor felt his hopes disappear. All of them. His voice sounded fatalistic, empty. "Then there's not much I can do about it, Jaclyn."  
"Can't you use some of your..." Jaclyn jiggled her hands in the air to indicate his godly powers.  
Trevor couldn't help but smile. "No. I've got nothing down here except what everyone else has. There's no trump card in the deck."  
Jaclyn looked into his eyes, still frightened.  
"Trevor... run."  
"What?" he whispered.  
"You've got to run! Leave! Go to another city. Don't let them find you, don't let them do this to you! We both know we're not crazy! Well... maybe you do. It's the only way, Trevor."  
"But how am I supposed to match up a hundred couples if I go into hiding?" Jaclyn would have laughed is she hadn't been so concerned. He was persistent to the end. "And I'd never get to see Claire again..." his voice trailed off, more concerned about the latter than the former.  
"That doesn't matter, Trevor! She'll be in New York and you'll be in a padded room! All that matters is that you're OK."  
"So I should... run." It sounded too simple as he said it.  
"Yes! Far away! As far as you can..." Jaclyn was desperate.  
"OK," he said resolute. "OK. I'll do that. I'll run so far that they'll never find me."  
"Look, I'm sure Champ will help you out, Trevor. The three of us should be able to find a way to get you safely out of Chicago. Where is he, anyway?"  
"At work. He ends his shift in about half an hour."  
"Fine. I came straight over here when I heard, but I've got to get back to the office to tell Claire."  
"That's not a good idea, Jaclyn."  
"But she has to know, Trevor. At least for a chance to say goodbye."  
"We've already said goodbye. And if you told her, what's stopping her from calling the police to grab me before I escape?"  
"You know she wouldn't do that." Jaclyn sounded surprised he had even suggested it.  
"I know... she wouldn't. But what could she do instead? Help me leave? Keep her silence? That wouldn't look very good to her superiors at Lakeview, or wherever she ends up in New York. Either could cost Claire her job. No. She's taken enough risks for me already. Don't tell her. There's nothing she can do that wouldn't end up hurting her, and I don't want to do that, Jaclyn. Neither do you. Claire can't stop this anyway."  
"Fine, Trevor. Just promise me you'll leave. Tonight."  
"I promise," he smiled. "They'll never find me."  
Jaclyn nodded. "I need to get back to the office before Claire gets suspicious. I'll come back to help the second she leaves." Jaclyn turned towards the front door.  
Trevor grabbed her elbow and pulled her into his arms for a hug. Jaclyn blinked as she found herself there, a place she'd imagined and dreamed of. She hugged him back as she had always wanted to, closing her eyes to capture that cherished sensation. To capture a moment she would never forget.  
"I'll miss you, Jaclyn."  
She laughed. "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot today."  
Jaclyn broke the embrace and hurried out as Trevor closed the door quietly behind her. He nodded to himself in the darkness of the apartment. "They'll never find me," he said.  
  
  


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	7. 

PREVIOUS PAGE  
  
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The sound of muffled music floated on the night air. Taggerty's was running full bore, and a line of people stretched from the front door as they waited along the sidewalk to get in. Jaclyn pushed through them to the entrance where Champ stood checking ID's. He looked up as she rushed forward.  
"Jaclyn. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"  
"Champ, you've got to help me." Her voice was concerned, quiet as she glanced around quickly. "Can I talk to you in private for a second?" Jaclyn walked off a little way from the door.  
Champ stood there, uncertain. Handing the ID he held back to its owner, he waved that person in. "Uhh... sure, Jaclyn." Lifting a warning finger to the next person in line to stay where he was, Champ moved over to Jaclyn. He leaned in when she motioned him closer to talk discreetly. "So what is it?" he asked.  
"Something's happened. Trevor's leaving, running away. I had to warn him that his new therapist is a complete wacko. A Dr. Frechette..."  
"Yeah, Trevor's told me about him..."  
Jaclyn couldn't hide the urgency in her voice, no matter how softly she spoke. "He's going to put Trevor on some experimental drug, I heard the director of the hospital say so myself. Apparently the man has some sort of pharmaceutical fetish. Trevor's got to get out of Chicago! He's got to leave. And you've got to help him do it."  
"Wait. There has to be something else we can-"  
"If Trevor told you about this man, then you know that there is no other way," she said firmly.  
Champ was at a loss for words as he thought about the situation. Trevor was a friend. More of a friend than he would have imagined possible after first meeting him. What Jaclyn was proposing was risky for everyone involved. It was a drastic step, but as he searched for a solution, he couldn't think of anything better.  
Jaclyn continued. "They will sedate him, drug him, and lock him up. Do you want to see Trevor like that?"  
"No, I..." Champ paused. There just had to be another way.  
Jaclyn saw his thoughts on his face. "Running away is the only way. He needs your help. He needs our help. He's done a lot for both of us. It's our turn now." Jaclyn waited, hoping he would see.  
Champ decided. "Fine. Let's do it."  
Jaclyn sighed with relief as a hopeful thrill coursed through her. This could work. "Thank you, Champ. The second you get home you'll start getting him ready, right? Promise me. _Please_."  
"I promise. I have a little money saved up. We'll get him out of Chicago. Tonight. I care about the little psycho too, you know."  
"We've got to make this work, Champ. Claire's still at the office working late and I've got to get back to keep this thing a secret. If she finds out about it, it will put her in a bad position. Call me the second you get home, OK?" Jaclyn was feeling better. She was almost getting into this subversive cloak and dagger stuff. "As soon as she leaves, I'll go to your apartment. We can do this." Champ couldn't tell who she was trying to convince, him or herself.  
"He'll make it, Jaclyn. We won't let Frechette lay a finger on him."  
"Thank you again, Champ. You really are you're name-sake!" She jumped up, high up, and pecked his lips quickly with her own. Champ smiled as she darted off, watching her leave. As he slowly moved back towards the entrance he rubbed his lips. Jaclyn's kiss had felt better than he would have imagined if he had bothered. He should have bothered, he realized. As he resumed his position, the next man in line gave Champ a knowing smile.  
"She's cute," he said.  
"Yeah, well. Flattery isn't going to get you in any faster." Champ looked back the way Jaclyn had gone, already planning what they could do to help Trevor on such short notice. Checking his watch, he willed it to move faster so his shift could end. It was going to be a long night. Something far overhead caught his eye and he looked up.  
Moving among the stars was a comet, its long tail bright in the night sky, fighting the gray haze from the city lights. Champ smiled as he watched it. A line of Shakespeare came to mind, though he didn't know why.  
"When beggars die, there are no comets seen. Yet the heavens themselves proclaim the..." Champ trailed off. There was something disturbing to him about that phrase.  
"Hey, that was pretty good,' the man in line said, handing Champ his ID. "Do you know anything from Romeo and Juliet?"  
"Romeo and..." Champ suddenly realized what was bothering him. He was running for home before he remembered to hand the man's ID back to him.  
  
  
Claire had lost track of the time. Earlier she had tried to pack, but had given up. Now she tried to work on her book, but the computer screen seemed to mock her, remaining empty except for a chapter heading. Typical. Nothing had seemed to go right for her over the past few days. Nothing seemed to make sense. Suddenly she began to sob, silent and alone in her office, dropping her head into her hands. She could find no reason for it. Not one she was willing to face.  
"Come on, snap out of it, Claire," she said to herself. But she found no comfort. She couldn't tell how long she had been crying when she heard her doorknob click and turn.  
"Dr. Allen?" Jaclyn looked into the office as she opened the door, her face empty. She saw Claire seated at her desk with her head bowed down between her hands, her fingers entwined in her hair. Claire looked up at the sound of her entering, wiping a tear from her cheek.  
"You know," Claire began, her voice still on the edge of tears, her eyes glittering, "Maybe I made a mistake. I mean, I think I have feelings for Trevor and I just... threw them away." She sniffed as she wiped away another tear, letting out a small despairing laugh. "And for what? To do what Alex expects? To keep my nice office and cushy job even when inside I'm miserable? As much as I hate to admit it, maybe Trevor's right. Protocols, rules... professional ethics, they can't be all that matters. Thay just can't. A job can't mean more than how I feel. I follow all the things I should do... never questioning if its what I really want. Marrying Alex when I'm not completely certain how I feel for Trevor. Just another coward who didn't have the courage to follow my heart." Claire didn't look up, talking as much to herself as to anyone else. "I can't live this way. Being true to everyone and everything but myself. Not and still call myself alive, Jaclyn. I..." she paused searching her heart for the right words as she aimlessly stared at the top of her desk. Her notebook computer sat open before her. Its screen displayed a title.  
  
EPILOGUE: LETTING GO OF CUPID.  
  
"Dr. Allen..." Jaclyn seemed reluctant to say what she knew she must, her own voice quiet and subdued.  
"Maybe it's not too late," Claire continued, not really hearing her. "I'll go find... go find Trevor and tell him that I-" She blinked, as if finally admitting something to herself, causing another stray tear to course down her cheek. "That I love him." Her voice seemed stronger as she softly laughed again. "That the wedding's off and that I'm not in love with Alex, I'm in love with him." Claire wiped her eyes, more certain of what she had to do. "It's not to late..."  
Jaclyn tried again. "Dr. Allen..."  
"No, this can't wait." She didn't look at Jaclyn as she spoke, caught up in what she was saying. "I'm going right now, I don't care what time it is. I'll wake his little cupid ass up if I have to." Claire grabbed her things, preparing to leave. She closed the lid on her notebook computer. Quickly, she came around the desk.  
"Please, Dr. Allen..." Jaclyn seemed on the verge of tears herself.  
Claire didn't notice as she moved to get her coat. "No, don't try to talk me out of it. I know I'm probably kissing this job goodbye, but I don't care. I'll still have to smooth things over with Alex, but I can do that. It's never too late to change things."  
Jaclyn looked at her, realizing Claire didn't understand what was happening. "Dr. Allen," she spoke more forcefully, making Claire look up, "I've just been on the phone with..." She paused as her voice broke, uncertain of how to tell her.  
Claire was still sniffing back tears. "What is it, Jaclyn?" She wiped her face again as she tried to compose herself.  
"I think," Jaclyn said softly, "that you should get over to Champ's apartment right away."  
Claire started to smile. Jaclyn agreed with her. Perhaps she could still get Trevor to understand... But that image vanished as she saw the grim look on Jaclyn's face, and a chill sensation filled her.  
Without another word she ran out of the office.  
  
  
_Spend all your time waiting, for that second chance..._  
  
The radio filled the interior of her car with a mournful ballad as she sped quickly down the Chicago streets, virtually empty at that time of night. She didn't even hear what was playing as she drove, her mind filled with worry about Trevor. Various images passed through her thoughts, none of them good. So she drove even faster, ignoring the whine of the engine or the squeal of her tires. Somehow she knew that she had to hurry. Trevor had to know how she felt.  
  
_You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie..._  
  
A cascade of red and blue lights swept across the building facades surrounding Champ's apartment. The pulsing colors reflected across the glass of her car windshield, strobing across Claire's concerned face beneath it. Several police cars and an ambulance were haphazardly parked on the street out front. Claire's car squealed to a stop between them.  
  
_In the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here..._  
  
Claire angrily pushed open her car door as she hurried to get out. A policeman who had watched her pull up rushed up to her, stopping her almost instantly.  
"I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to stay back-"  
Claire struggled to pass him. "No, you don't understand, I've got to get inside!"  
"Ma'am, I can't let you do that." the policeman tried his best to hold her, drawing the attention of a second policeman nearby. Claire darted around the first officer but the second blocked her path before she went ten feet.  
"You've got to let me through!" She cried. "I've got to see Trevor!"  
"Trevor Hale?" The man blocking her asked. "How do you know Mr. Hale?"  
"I'm in love-... I'm his therapist."  
The policeman looked at her. A look of sadness and sympathy that she would never forget crossed his face. He lowered his eyes. "You had better see for yourself, ma'am."  
"Thank you," Claire said, breathless from concern as she rushed up the steps and into the building.  
Behind her, the two officers moved to stand next to each other. Their breath fogged in the crisp night air as they spoke, backlit by the swirling red and blue lights. One turned to the other.  
"She should have come sooner."  
Claire darted up the stairs as fast as she could. The walls and doors around her bounced and passed by in a blur. She could hear her footsteps and quick breaths in the empty hallway as fear after fear crashed through her mind. The hallway seemed endless. And she couldn't get that song she had heard in the car out of her head. Finally she saw Trevor's door standing open before her. As she rushed towards it she could sense movement inside.  
Claire came to a stop in the doorway, her hand gripping the frame of the door as she rushed in. The red and blue lights from the street below swept across the ceiling, looming over several people moving around the room. Her face froze, locked into an expression of shock and horror. A thickening line of moisture glittered along the bottom of her eyes, tears quickly forming there. Slowly now, she walked forward.  
Champ was there, grim faced as he stood by several others in the room. He saw her enter and moved over to her, but he could find nothing to say. Claire barely even saw him as she continued to move forward. Another police officer came up to her and his lips moved as if he were speaking, but no sounds came from his mouth. His brow furrowed when she didn't answer. Champ turned to the officer and his lips moved as if he spoke as well, telling the officer who she was. Again, Claire heard nothing. An entire room full of people moving around seemed completely silent to her. Only a song echoed in the back of her mind.  
  
_Arms of the angel, far away from here..._  
  
Claire seemed to be moving in amber as she pushed forward, the red and blue lights now flashing across her pale skin as she came closer to the apartment windows. A new tear began its slow descent down her cheek, as a flash of bright white light filled the room. It seemed to last several moments, but was actually only a split second long. Somewhere in the back of Claire's mind her thoughts registered that a flashbulb had just gone off. Someone was taking pictures. A paramedic bumped into Claire as he moved to leave, but she barely noticed. An opening through the people in the room formed before her. Then she saw. Her heart wilted and fell away from the shell of her body. After what seemed like an eternity, she could still feel it falling. Suddenly all the movement and activity in the room seemed as irrelevant as the sounds she had stopped hearing. She wasn't aware of her own movements even as she took the last step forward.  
Claire looked down on Trevor, unwilling to believe. Above her the red and blue lights continued to flash on the ceiling and across her desolate expression, glittering in her eyes. Her vision locked onto Trevor, and she saw nothing else as several tears fell down her face all at once. She knelt down and took his hands into hers. Grief washed through her, filling the empty space that had been left inside. For that endless moment it seemed that she had never felt anything else. Forgetting the sensations around her, she felt only the touch of Trevor's still hands as she held them.  
Someone else's hand held something before her. She realized it was a piece of paper being given to her by Champ. She looked up at him, his eyes misty, and then at the paper that he held, which seemed to have Trevor's hand-writing on it. Slowly she reached out and took it, unfolding it between her fingers so she could read what was written there.  
  


     Claire,  
You were right. It's time to face reality, such as it is. I didn't want to admit to myself that you didn't love me. And that you never would. To you, I'm just some delusional patient of questionable charm. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get you to see who I really am. We're all dreamers at heart. Gods and men alike. I just wish we could have shared the same dream, Claire. Go marry Alex. Find that lightning bolt love and scream it to the heavens so that even Olympus takes notice. I'll smile when I hear it there. That's not a dream. It's real, waiting for you. Find it. As for me, either the gods have decided I've learned my lesson and I'm on an express ticket to Olympus, or I died a simple mortal who learned he could love a mortal. You know which one I believe. Which one you believe is up to you. One dream's as good as the other. Be happy, Sparky. You deserve it. Who loves you, baby?  
  
Trevor Hale, the once and future  
Cupid,  
God of Love  
  
  

Claire tried to pull her mind around the fact that Trevor was gone, but couldn't. As another flashbulb went off, she seemed to feel her body from a distance and she tried to imagine her life without him. This couldn't be it, she thought to herself. There had to be more. It couldn't end like this.  
"Trevor, don't walk away from me... I need you." She spoke even though she knew there would be no response. "Wake up, Trevor. Please." Softly she shook him, knowing it was pointless. Suddenly she noticed something in his hand, the heart necklace he had given her for Cupid's day. Quickly she reached for Alex's engagement ring on her finger and yanked it off, letting it drop to the floor. She took the necklace, latching it around her neck, crying as she did so. Her voice quivered as she leaned over him.  
"Can you see, Trevor? I love you. Please come back... please." her voice finally broke as she looked at him, his face motionless and still. She didn't know what else to do.   
"We all choose our dreams,Trevor," she whispered. "I choose yours."  
Gently touching his cheek, she lowered her face towards his as she realized there were no miracles left. As their lips touched another flash filled the room with a piercing white light, and time stopped. She lost thought of anything else but the feel of his kiss and the echo of a distant song.  
  
_In the arms of the Angel, may you find some comfort here._  
  
Suddenly, Claire jerked her head up from her desk as morning sunlight streamed in through the window behind her. As she looked around she brought her hand up to find her face wet with tears. She was alone in the office. Blinking several times, she tried to come to her senses. Her computer still lay open before her, the patient cursor waiting as it blinked beneath the title she had typed in the night before.  
  
EPILOGUE: LETTING GO OF CUPID.  
  
Claire deleted it in a haze, unsure of what had happened. She grabbed her purse and darted out of the office. As she passed the reception desk outside her front door, she didn't notice the yellow envelope still sitting there, undelivered. Quickly she sped down the hallways, dodging the various people before her who were beginning their work day. In her jumbled vision she saw Director Greely standing in the hallway, reading a report of some kind. Claire barely avoided plowing into him, but she didn't stop as she ran past.  
"Dr. Allen, I needed to see you about one of your case files, about Trevor Hale," he said quickly, when he realized she wasn't stopping.  
"No need!" she called back to him over her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying in Chicago!" She continued her sprint down the hallway, apologizing to a man she nearly floored in her haste. "Excuse me! I'm so sorry." Her voice echoed up the hallway to Dr. Greely, as she moved out of sight.  
Once she was gone, he shook his head. What's gotten into her, he wondered. Sometimes it was hard to tell who was running the asylum, so to speak. Especially in that office. Looking down, he began to reread the report he had just recieved that morning. An independent research firm had finally released the results of a controversial study. Thorax-B had been proven to be ineffective and harmful in clinical trials. All testing and use of the drug was to be discontinued. He smiled secretly to himself. Good. He had never liked Dr. Frechette anyway.  
"I guess he's still yours, Dr. Allen." Greely turned and walked back into his office.  
  
Claire didn't bother knocking. Instead she scrambled at Champ's door with the spare key Trevor had given her. His one drunken experience had convinced him that Claire might have to pour him into his bed one day, if he was ever foolish enough to go that far again. She finally felt the lock click and she flung the door open, running inside.  
"Trevor! Trevor, where are you?" The apartment was empty. Thick bars of sunlight flowed in through the windows, Claire's outline shadowed in them, searching. She checked his bedroom. The bed was made. Even Champ was gone. No one was home.  
"Why is it when I actually _want_ to see you, you're suddenly nowhere when usually you're everywhere!" Claire threw her arms up in disgust and ran out the door, slaming it shut.  
  
It was still mid-morning, warm and bright, as Trevor and Jaclyn walked the streets of Chicago. Skyscrapers towered overhead to either side, rising out of view, but they didn't look up. The two of them walked slowly, as if they had been talking for some time.  
"And so the report was faxed in last night," Jaclyn was saying. "Claire was asleep in her office and I didn't want to wake her. When I read Thorax-B was outlawed, I just had to tell you, Trevor. I mean, that report showing up when it did... it just came out of the blue."  
Trevor chuckled. "Deus ex fax-machina? The modern age... You could call it 'miraculous' even."  
"Trevor... did you have anything to do with-?"  
"Me? No. But I do have a few friends in high places."  
"Well, I'm glad I caught you before Champ smuggled you out. Maybe you can find a therapist that will be a little more open to your cond-... 'special charm', now."  
"I hope so. You've never considered becoming a therapist yourself, have you? Anyway, I just wish Claire wasn't leaving."  
Jaclyn nodded. She glanced at the bundle of red roses he carried. "Are those for Claire?"  
"Yeah. We had a sort of messy goodbye. I didn't want to leave it like that." He waved the roses as he held them. "Improptu wedding gift. Congratulations and all that for her and Alex. I mean, a dozen roses from the god of love, that's got to be worth something, right?"  
"More than you think, Trevor."  
Jaclyn looked over at him, seeing it in his expression. Knowing who was on his thoughts. "Are you going to tell her before she leaves?" she asked.  
"Tell her what?"  
"How you feel about her..."  
  
  
  


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	8. 

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Trevor said nothing. He didn't see the point of doing that, now.  
Exasperated and amused at the same time, Jaclyn shook her head. "Is it going to take me shooting you in the ass with your own bow, or are you just going to admit it?" She mimicked a bow motion as she smiled.  
"I'll have to see your union card, young lady..."  
"Can't. I'm kinda using it. It's still pumping blood to my organs."  
"Then take your best shot."  
"Trevor!" someone shouted.  
Trevor turned as he heard footsteps. Suddenly he found himself in Claire's arms as she nearly mugged him with relief. Surprised, but enjoying it, he looked over her shoulder at Jaclyn."Nice shot..."  
Jaclyn's face filled with joy at the sight of them. Quietly she stepped back.  
"Trevor! Oh thank god you're OK! I was so worried, I thought I had lost you!"  
"Did you look where you last left me?" He teased her but saw that she was serious. "Claire, what's wrong?"  
Claire realized how foolish she must seem but she didn't care. She hugged him tighter, feeling him real in her arms. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Not now. I'm just happy to see you. Living, breathing you."  
"Well, I have to say this is a fantastic improvement over your more traditional 'good morning'. I hope it catches on."  
"Trevor, do you know the best thing about second chances? They're a _chance_. So, I've got something to tell you."  
"Wait, me first. I got these for you and Alex, to say I'm behind the wedding. A small token of--"  
"No, listen Trevor. This is important."  
"-my approval.I mean, you made the choice. You chose to marry Alex. The decision was yours and I didn't have any right to say-"  
Claire blinked several times, trying to find a space to interrupt his word stream, unsuccessfully.  
"Trevor, if you would just stop for one... You need to hear what--"  
"I really want to say I'm sorry, Claire. Your instincts are just as valid as mine. Just because I have three _thousand_ more years of experience doesn't mean I should question your decision after you few decades of knowledge in-"  
"I have made a decision, Trevor. I lov-"  
"So I fully support anything you do, no matter how foolish or misguided it seems. I mean it be nice if you showed me the same courtesy, but I suppose that's asking too-"  
He stopped as Claire lovingly caressed his cheek.  
"Trevor, for once... just shut up." She smiled as she said it. And then...  
She kissed him, catching him by surprise. A deep, passionate kiss that made him forget what he was saying, what he was thinking. The air erupted with music.  
Jaclyn looked across the street where the music was coming from, loud and clear. An impromptu stage and sound booth had been set up in front of the glass front offices of a Chicago radio station. As the music boomed out, she read the banner drapped above, which read: _OLYP, new format launch today_.  
Trevor's stunned face quickly melted as they dove further into the kiss. Claire's hands flowed over her shoulders and into his hair, holding his head as she kissed him. Trevor's arms crossed on her back, pulling her closer, still gripping the roses. They closed their eyes, falling into a long, deep kiss that seemed to resonate to the souls of their feet. Two hearts pounded close together, and the world seemed encircled between them. In that sparkling, lingering moment, they both remembered what it truly meant to be alive. The music in the air broke into lyrics.  
  
_Wake up kids, we've got the dreamer's disease..._  
  
Jaclyn couldn't help but smile as she watched them. They looked perfect together, standing in the sunshine with their arms around each other. Several other people on the sidewalk began to stop and stare, forming a circle around them. Jaclyn turned to a stranger standing beside her. "New love," she explained. "At least that's what they thought. But I knew better all along."  
Trevor didn't realize it as he let go of the dozen roses to hold Claire tighter. They seemed to fall slowly, bouncing off the sidewalk. A stray rose petal fell past. The kiss continued, buoyant and full.  
Something small fluttered down from above, red and fragile. It was followed by another one, this one pink, then another. Suddenly the air was filled with a softly cascading shower of rose petals, bouncing off of Claire and Trevor's heads and arms as they kissed. It fell like confetti all down the street, filling the sunshine with motion and color. People looked up in wonder at the sight, as the deluge continued. Behind it all the music boomed on.  
  
_But when the night it falling, and you cannot find the light. If you feel you're dream is dying, hold tight..._  
  
Finally, Claire and Trevor broke their kiss, realizing the commotion around them. Claire looked up, her eyes glowing with happiness. She laughed at the sight even as petals fell on her face.  
"Trevor, what's happening? Are you doing ..."  
Trevor relished her expression, smiling at her. "Maybe it's better not to know for certain. Just accept it for what it is, Claire. How did you decide that I was the one? What made you..." he looked into her eyes, wanting to know.  
"Well, I realized that all we have in life is the dream of what could be. In the end, what the hospital wants, what Alex wants, doesn't matter. It's about what I want. And Cupid or not, insane or not, I want you Trevor."  
"But, you _might_ believe I'm Cupid, right?"  
She kissed him. "Don't push it."  
A workman came out of the building they stood by. He looked up at the falling petals and shook his head. "I know somehow I'm going to be the held responsible for cleaning this up. What happened?"  
A second man stood on the sidewalk where he was watching Trevor and Claire. It was the same electrician from the bar. His face was beaming, enigmatic. "I don't know, love I think," he motioned to the couple before them. "The music started playing from the radio station over there, then it started to rain flowers from the sky. It must be some rooftop wedding gone bad." He held his hand out as several petals fell into it. "Still, it seems to be working out for those two. Sometimes a hundred step dnace lesson can be learned in just one."  
The workman looked over at the electrician, who seemed to know more than he was letting on. He decided to introduce himself. "Hi. I'm Bob. What's you're name?"  
The electrician smiled and held out his hand as the workman took it. "Just call me Z."  
Jaclyn, having overheard, widened her eyes and turned quickly, but the electrician and the workman were already walking away before she could see the name stitched on his shirt. She shook her head, it was a foolish thought.  
  
_This whole damn world, can fall apart. You'll be OK, follow your heart. You're in harm's way, I'm right behind, now say you're mine..._  
  
Champ entered his apartment carrying coffee and doughnuts. Curious, he realized Trevor was gone. He must have left with Jaclyn. Something about having to buy some flowers, if he remembered right. Putting his bags on the counter, he switched on the television. What he saw there couldn't have been more shocking if it had flown out of his--  
"This is Catherine Ralls, reporting for _Chicago This Morning_ at the new format launch of OLYP. It's an amazing scene here, the air's full of flowers with rumors circulating of a rooftop wedding mishap. Suffices to say several people seem to have been caught up in the whole thing..."  
The camera zoomed in through the falling flowers, its vision obscured, but Champ recognized who he saw locked in the embrace. Trevor and Claire, kissing again, their faces away from the camera. Champ smiled. "Well, I'll be..." he said in wonder. "Maybe he really is" he paused for a moment, "...NAH!" Champ dismissed the idea, as he watched the camera pan away. Unnoticed in Trevor's bedroom behind him, all the beads were clustered together, next to the first.  
  
_Don't let go, you've got the music in you. One dance left, this world is going to pull through. Don't give up, you've got a reason to live. Can't forget, you only get what you give..._  
  
Trevor and Claire stopped kissing as he picked her up and swung her around, laughing in his arms. Once he put her down, she looked into his face.  
"How do I know this isn't a dream, Trevor?"  
Trevor smiled, as more rose petals cascaded between them. "We don't."  
Claire kissed him again. They loved each other and that was all that mattered. But as they kissed, she reached up and pinched herself on the arm. Hard.  
  
  


THE END


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